


Red

by neyllah



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Comedy, M/M, Office worker US!, Retired porn star UK!, Romance, USUK - Freeform, What are Tags?, retired pornstar AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-04-24 18:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4929829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neyllah/pseuds/neyllah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred was positive that the person who served him coffee was none other than his favorite porn star.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“Harder!”_

“Haaah…”

_“Uugh— fuck!”_

Alfred gave his head a semi-tight squeeze, teeth clenching in the process as he felt the nerves in his dick throb dangerously. He was close, oh so very close but he cannot cum just yet, not when Red seemed not to be anywhere close to spilling his, as Alfred liked to call it, sacred juice but really it was just cum. Bittersweet, satisfying, white liquid-y goodness that the American loved so much granted that it came from the man called Red.

 _“T-there! Bloody fucking— nng_ h!”

He moaned simultaneously with Red whose eyes rolled back at the very moment his sweet spot was harassed. Saliva dripped down the corner of his swollen lips as they opened and closed in rapid panting.

“You like that huh?” Alfred growled and a malicious grin crawled on his face when Red shouted a high-pitched “ _FUCKING YES!_ ”

He quickened his pace.

The minutes passed by fast but for Alfred it was as if time slowed down as the wonderful sensations in his groin intensified, the wails and cries coming from the oh so beautiful and smoking hot man by the name Red only amplified the pleasure that did nothing but make him moan and grunt. It was only a couple minutes later when they both came gloriously at the same time, creating a sinful mess out of cum, saliva, and sweat or in Alfred’s case, cum, sweat, and lotion.

And it was all Red’s fault.

That goddamn fucking son of a bitch who was now lying shamelessly on the stained bed sheet, breathing heavily with his teary, green eyes still in a daze after a seemingly satisfying orgasm. His naked body was being sprayed over by somebody else’s cum. Good god only knew how much Alfred wished that cum was his.

It was only after catching his breath and feeling his cock slowly go limp in his hand did Alfred proceed to wipe away some of the white droplets that managed to evade the tissue and fly on his laptop screen where Red’s face was currently being zoomed in. Alfred paused and just stared until after the video ended with a ‘for more awesome videos, visit **_ilovebritishcocks(dot)com._** ’

Alfred could only shake his head as he lied back on his pillow, eyes casted up the ceiling as the satisfaction of a good orgasm slowly tried to lull him to sleep. But he could not get over the porn he just watched just quite yet. It was one of the best ever from his collection of a hundred plus videos, all of which featuring his only favorite gay porn star of all time— Red Woods.

This guy was perfect as hell and the 25-year-old American just cannot get enough of the way those green eyes burned with lust, complimenting the fiery red hair that was always in a hotly mess. The pale, soft, and tender skin that remained unblemished and smooth despite everything Red had been through especially when he had to go through some BDSM performances. The way Red begged on his knees was hot, seeing him moan helplessly when he was hung, beaten, and gagged was ridiculously even hotter that Alfred actually felt guilty for being turned on by it. The ear, nipple, nose, tongue, lip, and belly button piercings made him sexier and Alfred would die for the chance to kiss each of them (he actually knew exactly how many there are). Do not get him started with the hipbone tattoo of roses, skulls, and thorns.

But it was not only because of Red’s appearance that made Alfred like him. There were a ton of gorgeous people in the porn industry as the physical attributes would be what most of the viewers would look into first and foremost before assessing the quality of the porn video. What made Red different from the rest was he was just too good at what he was tasked to do. Nope, it was not just about the talent of multitasking— jerking two cocks at a time with both hands while licking another one— but rather, it was about how convincing everything was.

Cheesy as it might sound and it may not be a word fitting the topic, but Red was just about the one and only porn star that was able to touch Alfred’s heart and soul.

Those eyes conveyed so much more than lust. The way Red would look back at the camera made it appear as if he was actually looking back at Alfred in a silent plea, and it made Alfred feel that it was really him who Red was begging to be fucked by, that it was his own dick that the porn star wanted inside his ass. The whimpers, moans, and screams that escaped the red head’s (at this point it should be obvious why his stage name was Red) rosy lips sounded so genuine it was as if he was truly enjoying being penetrated by random people in all of his penetrable holes. Because if there was one thing Alfred learned from watching porn ever since he discovered it at the age of 11, that was how more than half of the porn star population was faking it. Or it could also be that all of them were faking it but most of them sucked at it.

All in all, genuine or not, Red was the only one who could reach into Alfred; satisfying not only his lust but as well as every other frustration he carried both emotionally and mentally.

It really was a pity that Red Woods already retired from the business a year and a half ago. Now Alfred was left with no choice but to repeat the more-than-a-hundred videos he had of Red almost every night. As much as he loved them (probably just as much as he loved his mother), he had to admit that he was getting tired of watching the same hundred-plus videos over and over again.

Sighing, the American sat up and closed his now cum-free laptop before going to the bathroom to take a shower. He went straight to bed and immediately fell asleep afterwards.

* * *

 

Alfred lit another cigarette as soon as he finished the last one. He never really was a smoke person, but after being confronted with so many failures in life, he learned how to puff expertly along the process. And right now, his current excuse was a disastrous potential one-night stand.

To think he actually expected to get laid that night.

“Dude, watcha’ doing here?” He received a light pat at the back from his colleague Gilbert Beilschmidt, a.k.a. ‘His Awesomeness,’ who quickly snatched the cigarette away from his fingers before he could put it in his mouth. Alfred did not even bother complaining and simply lit another one for his self. “And where’s that redhead you were grinding with couple’a minutes ago?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He hissed, not really needing to raise his voice as the club’s loud music could only be faintly heard from outside. “As for you second question, the fucking redhead was already taken.”

“What? Got snatched?” Gilbert teased but the American only huffed, smoke coming out of his nostrils.

“Apparently, I was the one who snatched him.” Alfred shook his head. “Asshole’s already being fucked by someone else.” He turned his face a bit to the light, exposing his bruised cheek. “See that? His shitty excuse of a boyfriend punched me square in the face before running away! ”

It was not that big of a bruise but the size was enough for it to be noticeable. Gilbert let out a snort, and before the German broke out to big fits of laughter, Alfred punched the other lightly in the gut— weak enough for not to hurt, but strong enough for Gilbert to step a few paces back.

“Gosh, dude, sucks for you!”

“Oh yeah? And what about you? Thought you’re gonna get yourself some chicks and dicks?”

“The night’s still young! I ain’t rushing.” Gilbert snickered, dropping the half-finished cigarette on the floor before stepping on it to extinguish whatever flame was left. “I’m also doing my part as your good friend. I got worried when I saw you rushing out, believe me. Come now, let’s go back in!”

Gilbert had not gone as far as a step would take him when he turned back around with disbelief the moment Alfred uttered an unrelenting ‘no.’

“Say what?” His brows arched up as Alfred dropped and killed his own cigarette with his feet.

“I’m just gonna go home.” Alfred cleared and Gilbert obviously did not like his idea.

“You kidding me?” His German friend marched back to him before swinging an arm over his neck. “But the fun is right there!” Gilbert pointed back at the club adorned with attention-seeking neon lights. “Watcha’ gonna do back at home? Have a porn marathon again of your favorite porn star?”

Alfred rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, like a denial of sorts but both men knew that what Gilbert had just said was most likely going to happen indeed.

“The real deal is right over there! Not at home!” His silver-haired friend tried to convince him more but he already made up his mind. Alfred was already tired, and the bruise on his cheek kind of stung. The reason for having acquired one on his Adonis-like face did nothing but made him feel worse. With an exasperated sigh, he unhooked Gilbert’s arm off him.

“Thank you, His Awesomeness, for worrying about my well-being but I really just wanna go home and maybe, yeah, watch my favorite porn star get some intense facial.” Alfred was already beaming with delight just by trying to picture one of those many scenes but he hid his feelings well with an annoyed look, an expression that Gilbert also currently wore when the German realized that his American friend’s decision was an absolute one.

Gilbert looked at him dead in the eye, and Alfred returned it without even blinking. As much as Gilbert hated losing, it was he who gave up first with his hands up in the air as he accepted defeat. Alfred wiggled his brows as if to taunt the other.

“Fine! Do what you like, Mr. Sunshine. Like I fucking care.” There was a hint of bitterness in Gilbert’s tone but Alfred knew that it was just a passing thing. It was not like the man could really hate Alfred.

“I sure as hell will.” He declared before he started walking away while Gilbert remained standing as the distance between them grew. Alfred made sure to slow his pace down a bit, taking his time walking to his car and it was not until he was a good few feet away that he heard Gilbert shouting, trying to call him back with a ‘You bring dishonor to us all!’ which he actually expected. Laughing, he merely raised his hand and his middle finger stood proudly.

“Fuck you too!” Gilbert shouted back in response, knowing the Alfred will not waste time stopping and looking around just to see the German raise a middle finger of his own. Shaking his head, he entered his car, started the engine, and drove away recklessly.

The night became awfully peaceful for Alfred after that and the radio music cannot really compensate for it. If he was going to be honest, it annoyed him. It was really tempting to just go visit another bar or club or maybe he could go find a college party worth crashing, get drunk, find his self another ass to bang that night, but then the pain he felt from the hit on his face was doing an exceptional work on ruining the mood as he continued to drive down the highway. It was a Friday night for god’s sake! And for a party person like Alfred, spending a Friday night home alone felt like he was wasting a big deal of his time.

Passing by a 24/7 convenience store that was really hard to miss because of its all too bright lights, he decided he would stop at the next one he would see on the way and just buy his self a few bottle of beers. He may be alone but that will not stop him from drinking though it was just so he could say he still was able to at least drink on a Friday night— an attempt to diminish the frustrating loneliness.

It was only another 0.5 miles when he spotted another store. Without even bothering to switch his signal lights on (as there were no other cars on the road so he deemed it a waste of time), Alfred swiftly turned to his right before flawlessly parking his car right in between the white parking lines because he was not a stupid driver unlike some people.

He winced when he entered the small establishment, silently cursing at he bright lights. The man by the cash register was rubbing his eyes, making it obvious to Alfred that he had just woken the man up from sleep. Although he really would not blame the other as it already was late at night and working during the hours humans were supposed to be sleeping was not an easy thing unless you worked for nightclubs. Seeing nothing else that was worth his attention, he focused back to the task at hand and let his feet drag him through the fridge where the ice-cold six-pack of beer was.

Setting his eyes on his favorite brand, it did not take him long to grab the pack and pay, bills and coins scattering on the counter as he paid the exact amount. Before the cashier could count his money, he was already marching out, not bothering to take his receipt. It would be just another trash in his car after all.

As he drove home, Alfred could already picture what he would most likely do and a small part of him kind of regretted leaving the club. But then the stinging sensation on his cheek reminded him that he was not up for anything fun anymore, and it would be better to spend the night drinking alone. It was not like he was some sorry ass who drunk alone every night. He was a party person, always out, always waking up on someone else’s bed because he never really liked bringing random people in his apartment. Cleaning his own sheets just because someone else cummed on them was not the type of responsibility he was set on.

Most likely, he would down all those beers down his throat, the familiar taste slowly lulling him to a drunk state as he browsed through the late night television shows. If he was still awake and got bored, he would jerk off.

The plan sounded pathetic, but Alfred was already used to his lone-nights routine. And instead of thinking how sad his night turned out to be, he focused on thinking what video of Red Woods should he watch before he go to sleep. It was just another night.

* * *

_“Mmff!_ ” A bead of sweat rolled down on the side of Alfred’s forehead as he watched Red moan through the gag. The porn star’s ass cheeks were almost red as his fiery hair from all the spanking done to him.

_“You like that, slut_?” Another man’s voice came through his speakers and Alfred found himself mouthing the words. Red nodded shamelessly, the camera zooming in his tear-stained face. His green eyes had darkened with lust and the glimmer in his irises caused by crying made Alfred’s breath hitch. When another hit made it to Red’s ass, he jerked forward, eyes closing for a second as he hissed through the gag. “ _Answer me._ ” The unknown man’s voice came again and Red responded with a muffled _‘yes_.’

Alfred swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in his mouth.

 _“Good boy._ ” Went the other man’s voice again. Alfred was glad that the camera really never showed him and focused on Red instead.

He had seen this video countless of times, what with the limited choices he had after Red disappeared in the porn industry a year ago. But Alfred still found his breath being taken away every time he watched the scene where Red’s hair was pulled back, causing the petite man to arch backwards, his milky neck being vulnerably exposed and Alfred could very well see Red’s Adam’s apple bob up, moaning as the other man’s cock slammed inside him without any given warning. Alfred bit his lower lip, his hand speeding up and down as he jerked himself.

Red’s body rocked in a way that drove Alfred’s cock crazy. The creaking of the mattress where Red was on as he was fucked thoroughly made Alfred’s imagination run wild. He closed his eyes, his bit his lip harder as he threw his head back. He could see how helpless Red was with those delicate hands tied behind his back as he pushed the entirety of his length inside the porn star repeatedly. The moans getting louder, higher in pitch, the choking through the gag, the large intake of breaths Red could only take through his nose.

“Fuck!” Alfred’s half-lidded eyes stared at the screen as he came just in time when the man fucking Red spilled his own cum on Red’s back. He could only wish it was his like many times before.

After the satisfying orgasm, Alfred proceeded to wipe himself clean after closing his laptop before going to bed, his feet hitting the empty bottles of beer in the process.

* * *

“Look, Toris, I need those sales reports by three in the afternoon or else boss is gonna kill me and we can kiss both our sorry asses goodbye to this company.” Alfred rested his hand over the material of Toris’ office cubicle that was just a few steps from his own.

“I’m trying my best, Alfred, believe me.” The sound of frantic typing tried to act as proof of Toris’ best performance. Alfred pushed his glasses up at the bridge of his nose, opening his mouth to tell the other man that the ‘best’ he was currently showing was not enough. Although Alfred really could not define what kind of ‘best’ he was looking for at the moment. Deciding against further talking and pressuring the other, he closed his mouth and simply sighed.

“Okay, you need a boost. I’ll go buy some coffee. Any requests?”

“Red bull.” Toris replied without looking at him and Alfred only hummed in response before turning around to leave.

“You’ve got two hours.”

He was not usually kind enough to buy other people stuff, but he supposed that with the way Toris looked, the man needed the adrenaline to finish his report on time. He understood that Toris had just finished some other tiring paperwork just maybe a minute before he appeared and demanded for the reports.

Alfred was not the kindest person on earth, but he was understanding enough to buy Toris some energy drink.

Walking out of the office, out the elevator, and out the very building that cradled his devil of a boss was a huge relief to him. He looked up the towering establishment and frowned, thinking about how miserable it was that he had to stress over some paper works on an already scornful Monday. At the very least, he expected a light workload since it was only the start of the week. On lunch breaks he would catch up with the latest office gossip, find out who the hot new employee was if there was any, who would get fired next, who slept with who, who cheated on who, whose wife was at the lobby demanding to see her husband’s other woman.

His mind had been wandering elsewhere and he was only paying half of his attention in accomplishing the task at hand. He grabbed three cans of energy drink, completely forgetting the specific brand that Toris requested although he was pretty sure that his work mate would not even notice it. Tossing the coins and bills on the counter without much thought and leaving the scattered all over much to the cashier’s dismay, Alfred headed out, thinking that he needed some caffeine.

It took him a while to find a decent coffee shop other than Starbucks. It was a bit far from his workplace but he was yet to realize that he would need to take a bus just to return to his building. How in the world did he stumble upon the place, he had no idea and he thanked his daydreams for that.

Alfred ordered the first thing he spotted on the menu, gave his name when asked, before walking away from the counter to take a seat by the window. He had a fascination for windows, yes, and he believed that main and important characters always sat by the window. It was something he had observed from watching too many movies during his free time, occasions when he did not feel like stroking his dick. Protagonists always sat by the window pane, a lost look in his eyes as they followed people from the outside that were interesting enough to gain a few seconds from his time. Speaking of time…

He glanced at his watch. Only fifteen minutes had passed since he left Toris alone to deal with his reports. It was not like Alfred was being an ass. Reminder that he volunteered to buy the man energy drinks. But the thing was, despite Alfred being a huge procrastinator, he actually got to finish his work on time and unbelievably so, he had a clean record when it came to submissions and he rewarded his self with free times such as these, and maybe a little partying when night came.

Remembering the hit he took a couple of nights before, his brushed his fingers against his already healed cheeks (thank god) and cursed under his breath. He still could not quite forget it and how it became the talk of the office the following day.

“ _Say goodbye to Mr. Baby face everybody!”_ Gilbert announced with his usual loudness, the man’s good vibes still intact even after getting reprimanded for his tardiness by his younger brother Ludwig, who was their big boss at the same time, Alfred, knowing that Gilbert got laid the night before much to his dismay, threatened the man that if he did not shut his fucking mouth he would shove Ivan’s dick in there. It was effective.

That was four days ago. Gilbert easily got off the hook. And to think that he miserably spent that night watching his favorite porn star get fucked by someone who was not him while Gil got an awesome threesome. It paid to be the big boss’ brother, he thought.

“Espresso for Alfred?” A heavily accented voice disturbed the streams of his flashback and snapped his full attention back to reality. The suddenness of someone addressing him surprised him, and it did not help that the voice was so unique and distinct it was as if he had heard it before. When he looked up, the waiter who served and left him his coffee, had already turned and walked away. He watched until the man disappeared before the door decorated with a colorful ‘staff only’ sign.

Shrugging, he returned his attention back outside and started daydreaming again.

It was about five minutes with him sipping his surprisingly delicious coffee when he heard that crisp voice again.

“Vanilla Latte for Katy?”

He tore his eyes off from the scenery of the busy sidewalk outside and settled on watching the foreign waiter deliver orders for a girl who sat a few tables from where he was. To his slight disappointment, the man had his back against Alfred, but that did not make him safe from Alfred’s observant blue eyes.

The man had a sandy blond shade of hair, a bit messy but not intolerable. Alfred had to say he rather liked the look of messy hair. It was crazy sexy given the right face. He let his eyes wander down the man’s ass, because no shit he was totally checking him out, and he was glad that it was not a disappointment. Maybe it was those tight black jeans that shaped them deliciously, clinging down to those sexy long legs. And Alfred had the black apron to thank for as the strings tied at the back hugged the waiter’s waist and exposed his curves. Alfred’s lips curled up against the rim of his cup.

Now he could only hope that the man’s face was as beautiful as his body. Alfred was not in the mood for disappointments. He tried to listen to their conversation and caught a few faint words coated with, to his delight, he confirmed, a British accent. This man, Alfred thought, was completing his checklist, and from the way the girl batter her eyelashes at the waiter, he was getting confident that the waiter had looks.

But then, Alfred had to know if the blond was gay. Not that he planned on pursuing him or anything. It would be nice to know that he had a potential catch.

Alfred’s detective play was cut short when his phone rang. He clicked his tongue and saw Toris’ name on the screen. He swiped it open and brought it to his phone.

“Yo?”

_“I’m almost done but I really do need that booster right now.”_

Crap. He had forgotten about that. He glanced at his purchase under the table, checking if it was still there.

“I’m on my way.” He mumbled and got a quick ‘thanks’ before Toris hung up just in time for him to look up when the blond waiter he was spying on turned around.

Alfred almost dropped his phone.

He was caught off guard. It was a big surprise to see such a pretty fucking face. It was beyond handsome, beyond a face that Alfred expected, beyond the kind of pretty that Alfred often would spot in a club. It was a pretty fucking face and Alfred had to bring the cup to his lips to avoid getting caught staring as the blond slowly strode toward his direction.

The waiter had a small piece of paper in his fingers and he judgmentally stared at it (thus the slow walking pace) with ridiculously beautiful eyes that made Alfred almost choke on his drink.

They were an alluring green that carried a hypnotic gaze even if the man was simply staring at the piece of paper. They were almost the same as… Alfred remembered the accent, and as the man came nearer to his table, Alfred spotted thick eyebrows underneath the waiter’s bangs.

Blond hair aside, the waiter was an exact replica of Red Woods.

Lost in his thoughts and bewilderment, the waiter had quickly passed by his table before he even realized it. Almost spitting his coffee out, he swiftly turned and craned his neck in an eager manner as he tried to suck in the sight of the waiter long before the man disappeared through the door for the second time. When he was no longer in sight, Alfred twisted his body and leaned back his chair with an audible sigh.

His phone came ringing again and prevented him from further diving through his star-struck-influenced assumptions.

“ _I’m done, and I’m drained. Hurry up and check these quickly.”_ Came Toris’ tired voice. Reluctantly, Alfred stood up and drank huge gulps from his cup before leaving the table with a couple of dollars as tips.

It was already two-twenty-five in the afternoon and he had half an hour more before the deadline. “On my way.” He answered and hurried outside, familiarizing himself with the street before riding the bus.

The rest of the day flowed in a tight and hectic schedule, but nothing could take Alfred’s mind away from the blond waiter at the coffee shop. Not after seeing all those similarities that were too good to be true.

When he got back home, he quickly opened his laptop and browsed through his video collection. He closed his eyes, touched his painfully hard length, and for the first time since he became a fan, he jerked off imagining Red Woods with blond hair.

Alfred found his ass warming the same chair he sat on in the coffee shop the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred didn't want to be a creep, but he inevitably became one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii! Just a heads up!  
> There will be some Russia x Prussia involved in this story but it's nothing serious. It's not a romantic type (unless I get some requests) lol. I'm just trying to build some identity and back story for the characters. Which means that there are also others involved that you may find out of character, extremely, it depends. But then again this is an attempt (my first, like what I said at the previous chapter lol) to write a Mature story so... yeah.
> 
> I'm hoping that I won't offend anyone and also, I'm hoping you'll like this! :D :D

He was such an eye candy, and Alfred was certain he also would be such a fine treat for his tongue, which he was trying his best not to stick out, making him look like a dog salivating for his treat that was put out of reach by its owner. So Alfred contented his mouth with the straw, chewing on it, biting on it, as he observed from the seat he had taken the day before when he first saw the blond waiter. His eyes never left the man’s figure whenever his presence dutifully paced around the place, serving orders, taking requests to bring extra sugar and tissues.

It was almost impossible, unrealistic, how the waiter resembled the best gay porn star of the twenty-first century (but now that Red Woods was retired Alfred was disappointed to find out that someone who was obviously less appealing than Woods took his rank). They had the same eyes, Alfred was certain. The same body measurements, he was ninety-five percent sure. That voice? All it would take was for Alfred to hear just a few seconds of moaning, or maybe just the word ‘fuck’ to come out of those tempting lips that the waiter kept on licking, keeping them moist and wet almost every other minute, to know that the waiter was indeed none other than Red Woods.

But his observations and certainness on some aspects were not enough to prove it. 

So Alfred sat in his seat, nibbled on his straw, and squirmed as he felt his blood rush downwards, waking his dick into a semi-hard state. He had just heard the blond’s coming a few tables from behind him, voice a bit low when he said _“Careful, sir_ ,” A chuckle and then _“it will burn your tongue.”_

Alfred did not even bother thinking if that sentence was really just sexy, or if it was just the voice and that chuckling. What really made him draw out a shaky and tensed breath was the word _‘sir’_ and the next thing he registered was _‘tongue.’_

Oh how he would love to hear those words again, maybe in a breathless manner right on his ear, the warm breath tickling his skin before a wet feeling would envelope it. A _tongue._ Slithering in his earlobes, behind his earlobes, teeth tugging playfully on them. And too caught in the moment, too driven by lust, those teeth would bite too hard one or two times. But Alfred would not complain, he would not say it hurt. Instead, he would raise his right hand and slap an ass cheek _hard,_ his palm staying there to squeeze it red, nails digging until it stung, something that will equate with the pain he felt from the bite, and in that way he would be able to tell _Red Woods,_ this _blond waiter,_ that he was willing to return the pain and the pleasure given to him tenfold.

And then there was the sound of approaching footsteps that pulled him down from his sex dreamland. The waiter he had been fantasizing on less than ten seconds ago passed by him in elegant strides before he stopped on a table, three seats away from where Alfred was, to gather the empty mugs and glasses and plates full of cheesecake leftovers.

Now Alfred really felt like a dog with his treat only a few feet away, not impossible to reach, not impossible to jump at. Then Alfred crazily wished that he be turned into a dog at that instant so he can do just that— jump and hump those damn skinny legs in those hot skinny jeans.

He casted his eyes down, not daring to outright stare at the waiter because he was not stupid and it gave him a high chance of being noticed. But from time to time he would blink and his eyes would look up to appreciate the man’s curves as he bent forward slightly, wiping the table clean from spills and crumbs. It took less than a minute for the waiter to clean up, but for Alfred it felt like hours, for his dick it felt like forever.

 Then the waiter straightened up, turned and began to walk, Alfred’s eyes fixated on the Kiwi fruit shake he ordered and now regretted. The waiter passed and Alfred turned to watch him enter the staff door, the sound of it shutting close marking the end of Alfred’s spying. So he called it a day and went home with the intention of relieving himself gloriously as soon as he reached his bed.

Alfred woke up at four in the morning the next day with a limp dick, _his_ limp dick, in his hand. Embarrassing as it was, he obviously had fallen asleep somewhere in his second round of jerking off. He was just fortunate that he lived alone away from his mother.

 

* * *

When Alfred reached the office, he was not surprised to see a bunch of males all huddled over someone’s PC, Matthias’ PC to be exact, and he was sure that the very moment someone among the lot spotted him, he would be pulled over to join them and _watch._

Alfred took a glance at his watch as he walked, not bothering to try and take quiet steps. It was only quarter to nine in the morning; he was forty-five minutes late but it was not such a huge deal. He always had been thirty to forty-five minutes late for work since his first day anyway. What mattered was he arrived before nine, before Ludwig Beilschmidt arrived, which he thought was unfair but Luddy was the boss and there was no use complaining. 

“Alfred! About damn time you arrive!” Alfred turned his head and sighed. It was none other than Matthias himself, the perverted mastermind of bringing the world of porn in the office. It was kind of amazing that he still had not been caught, but then again if Ludwig did catch him, the sanctions would be shouldered not only by Matthias but as well as the rest of those involved. Basically, the ninety-eight percent of the male population working at the ninth floor and Gilbert. 

“Isn’t it a bit too early for this?” Alfred grumbled, shaking his head, but Matthias’ smile told him that there was no escaping this. It did not help that Gilbert was already walking his way, and Alfred was really tempted to use his blackmail material, not that he can really call it that since the whole office knows that one Ivan Braginski _accidentally_ fucked him on the Christmas of 2014 or so he said.

 “It’s never too early for pussy, you ass!” Gilbert beamed, put his arm around his neck and began to lead him toward the bunch of their other male workmates. There was Matthias, of course, who took the front seat seeing as it was his desk, and then there was Toris. If Alfred had not really known the guy, he would be surprised to find him there, watching porn in the office of all places. Right beside Matthias was another person that surprised him the first few times— Roderich.

  _“I never thought you had it in you, you son of a bitch!”_ was every guy’s reaction to him.

 There were a couple of others he recognized from other departments, mostly from Gilberts. The ass must have invited them to _join the fun._

 Alfred sighed. Boys will be boys.

 There on Matthias’ screen was an ongoing _bukkake*_ , and just seeing the first few seconds Alfred already was uninterested and would only grow bored for a lot of reasons that Gilbert would mostly know. Sighing, he tried to remove Gilbert’s arm around his neck, which kept him in place. He could hear the other men’s heavy breathing, gasping, ‘ _woah’-_ ing, ‘ _oh yeah’_ –ing, every time three out of eight dicks of the men in the video simultaneously shot cum right into the female porn star’s face, sliding down her open mouth.

 Alfred’s Reason Number One for considering this boner unworthy: _Female Porn Star._ Reason Number Two? It was not his Red Woods.

 “You know what? I still have a lot of papers to organize,” Alfred successfully struggled free. “and I have clients to meet.” He finished. The others did not even look at him and he was sure they did not even hear him, much less notice him arrive. But Gilbert, always being the person who liked involving Alfred in everything he did in his life, looked at him with disbelief and disappointment. He opened his mouth, ready to lecture Alfred about what he was missing, but before his voice came out, the loud moan that sounded terribly fake resounded from Matthias’ speakers and Gilbert’s eyes immediately flew back to the screen.

  Alfred took this chance to leave, but before he could full turn away, Gilbert’s hands caught him. “We’ll talk later.” Gilbert mouthed and then let go.

_Great._ Alfred thought, rolling his eyes before walking to his own small cubicle.

 His desk was a mess as it usually was and just like every morning, he simply swept the scattered pens and unimportant papers to the right, making some space for his Mac and more important documents. He opened his laptop and in its still unlit screen he saw his frowning face. Obviously it was not a happy thing to wake up holding your limp dick at four in the morning. Just thinking about the possibility of rats crawling up to it, taking advantage of his penis’ vulnerability, made his heart pound hard in his chest in horror.

 It was the first time it happened and Alfred was going to make sure it would not happen again. _Damn it._ He felt extremely embarrassed of himself and somewhere along his line of regrets was the blond waiter who, he believed, was to blame.

 Alfred honestly thought he would get over the blond guy right after a goodnight’s sleep but no, he just had to come back to that place yesterday didn’t he? Because he was not satisfied, because he had to make sure that guy was real, that there was a possibility it was Red Woods’ twin if not Red himself.

 “ _BIG BOSS IS HERE!_ ” A shout from the office’s entrance and in an instant, the crowd of positively half-hard guys clambered away from Matthias’ desk and returned on their own. Gilbert, along with his invited men, ducked underneath the farthest cubicles from the middle where Ludwig would stride with his chin up and his cold eyes carefully observing, looking for anything amiss. He heard someone cursing, the cubicle beside him coming to life with the sound of a creaking chair and stumbling pens.

 Ludwig Beilschmidt appeared in his ironed suit and tie after a minute. The day had officially begun.

 

* * *

Five hours had passed when Gilbert appeared behind him, snickering.

“ _I smell sexual frustratiooon_.” came that teasing voice that Alfred liked but mostly hated when it was meant for him. But despite this, Alfred was able to temporarily get over this, as what Gilbert claimed, _sexual frustration_ of his in the last hours after he drowned his self with unsigned documents, unprocessed transactions, and a few stupid phone calls. He felt a little better now and it did Gilbert good because Alfred was the not the best person to approach when pissed.

 “And what can I do for you today, His Awesomeness?” He turned around on his chair, legs crossed, one hand on his lap while the other still hovered over his keyboard. Gilbert raised a brow at him then laughed.

 “What’s with the sudden mood change, _Baby face?_ Did you masturbate in the men’s toilet? Coz I ain’t seeing any sexual frustration now.”

 “Maybe I did.” Alfred merely shrugged before turning his back on Gilbert to resume his typing. Unsatisfied with his answer, Gilbert continued on with the conversation.

“Which means to say you’re hiding some great porn in that laptop of yours and decided not to share it with us, you selfish bastard.” Despite the seemingly hateful accusation, Gilbert was laughing and Alfred found himself joining in too.

 “You know very well that what you said is insanely true.” Alfred leaned back and folded his arms behind his head, eyes not leaving the screen as it buffered. “Aside from the selfish part. I would gladly share my collection to anyone, the problem is I’m gay, strictly gay, while the rest of the male population prefer some pink pussy.”

 “Roderich is gay.”

 “He was watching a while ago.”

 “Doesn’t mean he’s not gay. He’s probably imagining his self in place of the girl.” Gilbert insisted and craned his neck toward the direction of Roderich’s office despite knowing that the bespectacled man cannot be seen from Alfred’s spot. “The problem with you, my friend,” Alfred felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. “is that your preference involves one, _and only one_ ,porn actor.”

 Alfred stilled as the image of a certain blond waiter came flashing back to him like tidal waves. He breathed out shakily. Okay so _now_ he was feeling frustrated again. Better not let Gilbert find out.

 “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the beauty of his ass.” He answered back, trying to retain the lightness of his tone. Gilbert looked at him with wide eyes, feigning shock.

 “Who says I don’t?” Gilbert gasped. “I do appreciate his ass, it’s just that I don’t just focus on his ass alone.” Dramatically, Gilbert raised one hand and did a slow swiping motion in front of him, eyes staring at something imaginary. “There’s a lot of fine asses in the world, my friend, and life’s too short to enjoy only one.”

 “Such wise words.” Alfred pretended to be amazed and Gilbert took it positively.

 “I know. I’m so good at this. Maybe I should just shave my head and be a monk and do some fire bending.” Gilbert exaggeratedly waved his arms, bent forward one knee while the other stayed straight back, his eyebrows were furrowed in fake concentration. “Oh I’m meant for this, I know it.”

 Alfred briefly wondered how their conversation went from sexual frustration, to hidden porn, and then to Avatar, but his silent musings were drowned when he felt his stomach churn. He glanced at his watch. It was almost two in the afternoon and he realized that he had missed out lunch. Of all the things he had to miss, it was lunch, sacred lunch, holy lunch, lunch. Slightly disappointed with his self, he quickly closed his laptop, not bothering to shut it down since he would still be using it later, and then he fished his brown leather wallet out his bag.

 “Hey,” he interrupted Gilbert who was still acting like the legendary Avatar. “I’m gonna go grab something to eat. Wanna come?”

 Gilbert straightened himself out and shook his head.

 “You didn’t eat lunch? How could you?” Thinking it did not deserve an answer, Alfred rolled his eyes and coaxed a proper response from Gilbert by deadpanning. Snorting, Gilbert shook his head, a palm raised at shoulder level. “Nah I’m good. Just ate lunch with the guys and gals at my department. Why don’t you take Matthias over there? I’m positive he hasn’t taken his lunch yet too. Pretty sure he continued watching his porn the second Lud went inside his office. Sly bastard.”

 Alfred was quick to throw the idea and say no. Not that Matthias was not his friend. Alfred was friends with every single person in the office because he was just so likeable. And Matthias was a great dude, really great dude. But talking over uninteresting porn over lunch was not exactly his cup of tea.

 “I don’t think so.” He said and Gilbert laughed, nodding his head in understanding as he stood on his tippy toes, trying to get a view of Matthias’ spiky hair. Sometimes they call him Sonic.

 “Oh well. Go enjoy eating by your self then! I just came to check up on you anyway. Good friend and shit like that. ” They both began to make their way out of Alfred’s department. Gilbert was going to hop off at the fifth floor, Alfred was going all the way down the lobby. “I mean, you looked pretty pissed this morning. Something happened?”

  _I fell asleep with my dick out like an open invitation to mosquitoes and rats._ Alfred shuddered at the memory but smiled nonetheless. “Oh no, nothing. Just stubbed my toe on my way here and it still actually hurts right now. But less so I’m okay.” He lied.

 They went inside the elevator and Gilbert pressed the buttons ‘G’ and ‘5.’

 “I would like you to know that I don’t believe you.” Gilbert declared and Alfred made no effort in trying to contradict him. But that did not mean he was going to tell Gilbert the truth. Close as they were, matters between him and his dick were ultimately personal and confidential.

 The elevator stopped at Gilbert’s floor with a small chime followed by an electronic voice. _‘Fifth floor. Fifth floor.’_

 “See you around!” Gilbert punched his arm and grinned before hopping off right before the elevator doors slid close, leaving Alfred alone.

 It took some time for him to arrive at the lobby, and when the doors opened he was quick to get out from it and then out from the building. Now under the warmth of sunlight, which he was going to curse at in a matter of minutes for making him sweaty, Alfred realized he did not have a place in mind at all. Just across the street was Five Guys Burgers, his usual haven, but for some reason he did not feel like eating anything from there. He tried to consider Potbelly Sandwich located at the other street, just a five-minute walk from where he stood, but his stomach churned in a bad way as if telling him _‘nope, not that one either.’_

 Scratching his chin and feeling a bead of sweat roll down from his forehead (not even the chilly wind could do something about it), he decided to just take a stroll and see what he can find, cast his eyes on something and hope that his stomach would pleasantly grumble. But just as he crossed the street and turned, he spotted Starbucks, and in that moment his intestines seemed to twist and his mind began processing thoughts, and suddenly his tongue was looking for the taste of coffee from a certain café.

 Alfred paused bit his lips. _‘No. I’m not going there.’_ But he had to. He knew he wanted to. _‘But I’m already turning into a perverted creep in a matter of two days, three if I go today, and I can’t let that happen.’_

 He was against his self, and he knew more than anyone else that the worse enemy he could have was his own thoughts, his own wants, his own _needs_ no matter how crazy or unnecessary they were. And right now he felt the need to go there, at that damn café he still had not bothered remembering the name, to sit there and continue acting like a stalker. He turned around and began to walk in the opposite direction.

 It was all that Red Woods-look-a-like’s fucking fault.

 But wait, Alfred paused, his breath stopping for a second as the gears of his brain began pumping again. Hold on a second, because he had just arrived to something that made him feel better than the creep he deemed himself to be. It was that waiter’s fault, alright? Because he looked like someone who Alfred worshipped— from the tips of his red hair to his cute toes. And that was why Alfred was there, _to confirm,_ and nothing else. Being sexually frustrated (god he had been using the term too damn much thank you Gilbert) and having no option but to masturbate come night were just cruel side effects. Who could blame him, really?

 Obviously losing to a battle against his self although he did not see it as such, Alfred turned and began to head toward the café with the intention of finding out its name, _his_ name, and arrive to a conclusion that no, that waiter was not Red Woods but rather, someone who simply was favored by the gods to be allowed to share the same features as his favorite gay porn star.

 

* * *

Alfred had never been so wrong in his life and he was certain that it was not the last time he would be letting his dick’s brain do the thinking for him.

 “Your order?” it was a question he had encountered multiple times in his hyperactive life, but now it appeared like the hardest mathematical question he had ever encountered. “Your order, sir?” the question came again, words heavily coated with that fucking British accent that drove Alfred nuts.

 Why in the world did the blond waiter have to take over the cash register of all days?

 “Sir?” The man repeated and Alfred could only stare at those green eyes, the way those pupils were slightly dilated from under the yellowish lights placed on the ceiling to help create a mood. “ _Sir?”_ Alfred did not miss the slight change in the waiter’s tone. _He_ was getting impatient. Alfred on the other hand was getting horny.

“The usual.” He blurted out and rapidly blinked a couple of times. The hot blond man was looking at him with furrowed brows. _‘They had the same thickness as Red Woods! How can he be not Red Woods?’_ “I apologize but I do not know your usual order.” The man said.

 “Oh, um, of course you don’t.” Alfred cleared his throat, eyes still glued on those sparkling emerald gems. He just could not take them off. “Um, coffee. I would like some coffee.”

 “How would you like your coffee sir?”

 “ _Hot._ ”

 Alfred did not mean to say it so... airily, in his low voice, almost like a whisper. When what he did  hit him, his eyes widened and he swallowed nervously, eyes finally peeling off from the blond’s hypnotic green irises. Suddenly, the small laminated menu lying beside the register for people who were too lazy to look up suddenly seemed incredibly interesting. Maybe if Alfred let his eyes linger for a few seconds longer he would have seen the blond’s cheeks dusted with pink. It can be easily brushed off with ‘ _must be from the cold’_ but not something that can be missed.

 “Err, of course.” He could hear a slender finger tapping against the screen of the register. Without raising his head, he swiped his card and entered his pin. The receipt was placed on top of the counter and he carefully took it and the shoved it inside his pocket, the paper scrunching in his fingers. “Your drink will be brought to you in a moment. Thank you.”

 Hearing that, Alfred braved another look and it seemed to surprise the man although Alfred was still a bit shaken to notice the slight widening of those eyes that momentarily held him prison. He managed a small smile and a nod before turning to walk to his favorite spot, which always seemed to be waiting for his arrival as if it was expecting him because it was always empty.

“What would you have, sir?” The voice was not as loud as it had been, understandably since he was already at a distance away from the cashier. But it still managed to send chills down Alfred’s spine, and now that he was at the safety of his own corner, Alfred’s creative thoughts began to work its wonder.

  _‘Your order, sir?’_ He had said, he had asked, did he not? And Alfred could imagine the both of them in a whole different scenario, with the waiter mouthing the same words and Alfred responding with the dirtiest, most perverted answers he could think off.

  _‘Bend over.’_ he would say, and the waiter would do just that with no complaints. He would bend over the counter with his squirming, still clothed ass presented right before Alfred’s already bulging pants, seeking for the slightest contact that would only amplify the need to touch and to be touched. And Alfred, with amusement, delight, mischief, and temporarily restrained urges, would let a finger slide just at the waistband of the blond’s briefs, hook it under the garter before pulling as far as possible. The waiter would close his eyes and whimper as his own hard British cock was forced to endure the constricting pull that was the effect of what Alfred was doing. Then Alfred would let go of the band and it would slap back against the waiter’s pale and sweaty skin, making the man gasp and flinch, and unexplainably hornier.

The movement his eyes caught from the counter he deserted snapped him out of his trance and he silently watched the relief that flooded the blond waiter’s face when a woman came to take over the cash register. Alfred recognized her and he realized that _Red Woods Version Two_ simply covered for her when she temporarily went to god knows where and did god knows what. And it just so happened that Alfred arrived during that span of time, giving him the chance to converse with the man, whose ass he had been shamelessly admiring since Monday, for the first time.

 Alfred instantly darted his eyes out the window when Red Woods Two came and went past him, and Alfred realized that if he had not been so distracted with the man’s eyes, he would have had taken a quick glance at the nameplate pinned on the waiter’s left chest.

  _Damn it._ Opportunity wasted. Well at least he was able to have a conversation with him and hear those innocent-turned dirty questions (thanks to his brain) come out of that cute mouth.

 Catching his self with his mouth dumbly open, Alfred quickly shut it close and cleared his throat, eyes scanning his surroundings to check if anyone had seen him looking brain-drained. He licked his dry lips and mentally shook his head, debating whether to feel sorry for himself or not. When he was sure that no one had seen him look like an idiot, he relaxed, his shoulders slumped down. He reminded his self that the only reason why he was acting weird like a dirty old man was to satisfy his curiosity, although quite honestly he was just dangerously indulging it.

 He took a few deep breaths in and out, feet flat on the floor, palms relaxed on his thighs. Alfred looked as proper as a grade school student whose teacher was overwhelming hot there was no other choice but to behave and impress, hoping to be noticed by displaying his best attitude. As if his life was indeed playing in an elementary setting, his good posture and proper breathing pattern was rewarded a steaming cup of jet-black coffee.

 The sudden appearance of his drink as it was gently lowered on his table surprised Alfred, but he caught himself before he could even let his body embarrass itself by jumping. By instinct, his eyes trailed up the extended arm that laid a mason jar full of milk not far from the mug, and his eyes could not have been anymore wider than they were when, for the second time that day, he found himself staring at the beautifully passive face of Red Woods Version Two.

 Alfred let his jaw drop. He cannot believe his luck.

 Quickly recovering and learning his lesson, Alfred’s eyes quickly wandered down the man’s chest and there before him was the nameplate he missed earlier. But in a matter of a second the waiter straightened up and hugged the now empty round-shaped tray, covering the entire of his chest completely.

 “Your coffee, sir.” The waiter said, green eyes staring straight at Alfred’s blue, unblinking. “Anything else?”

 “N-no.”

 “Well then.” With a polite smile that Alfred could tell was fake but well practiced, the cause of his mini-heart attack gracefully turned and walked away, hips swaying subtly but Alfred still noticed.

 He let the air return and fill his lungs as he watched the object of his lustful affections hop from one table to another, handing table napkins and small packs of brown and white sugars. As his followed the Brit’s every movement, manly fingers curled against his cup’s handle a bit tighter than he normally gripped. He raised it and slowly put the rim of his cup against his lips, the strong smell of coffee enough to wake his senses but at the same time, he found his whole body relaxing.

 But when he tipped his cup and the extremely bitter taste came with a sting on his tongue, he hastily brought the cup away, the contents almost spilling on him. It caused him to flinch, making his knees fly up and bang the underside of the table. The pain made him wince and the banging sound from the painful contact startled the other customers on the tables near him. But they were quick to mind back their own business to which Alfred was thankful.

Suddenly he was aware of everything and the relaxing, haze that seemed to envelope him was gone. The pain in his knees told him that there was a chance he would limp on his way back at the office if the throbbing refused to subside before he finished his coffee— that black liquid of evil goodness. Glaring down at his drink, he could see the steam rise, making him frown a little. Realizing that the coffee was a lifeless being and he was stupid if he thought it would react to his glare, Alfred sighed and leaned back, arms dangling over the armrests of his chair. Through his slightly fogged glasses, he could still see the blond waiter’s form as it paced around, and Alfred, despite his misfortune of stinging his tongue, found his lips curling up into a satisfied smile. Why? Well, he really should not have expected to be so lucky that day and his burnt tongue was just balancing things out.

 He got to stare at the man up close for more than ten seconds not once, but twice, and he got to have a pretty decent conversation with him (although he imagined their first conversation to be way more steamy). Because ‘what would you like sir’ and ‘the usual’ were enough sentence exchanges for Alfred to consider it a decent conversation.

 But most of all, Alfred got to know _his name_ even if the chance went by too fast. His eyes needed just a fraction of a second to remember, and it did help a lot that it was a name he definitely liked, the feel of it rolling on his burnt tongue was perfect. Alfred opened his lips and said it again and again, testing it a few times more until he was satisfied. And when he was, he sighed, a small smile on his lips as he dragged the cup on the table’s edge so he could peer over it. The steam met his glasses, fogging them, and one thought only came to Alfred’s mind.

 

The coffee was _hot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two done! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi.” He breathed out. “Alfred Jones. Huge fan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, warning for some characters being maybe a bit out of character. I dunno. And because this is a long chapter I guess? Also for some grammatical errors. 
> 
> Alfred and Gilbert is(are?) my brOTP. 
> 
> Bruuh.

His name was Arthur K.

 Alfred was yet to find out whatever that ‘K’ stood for and why it was necessary to put the initial there (because, from what he observed, the other staff members did not have any initial next to their name). Was it his surname really? Or was it part of his first name? His parents must have been so damn weird to name their child ‘Arthur K.’ just because, but well, for Alfred, it was no big deal and he easily overlooked it. At least he would no longer have to call the hot blond waiter as Red Woods Version Two, which was too long and too wordy for him to say out loud.

 ‘ _Arthur,’_ he let the name roll on his tongue while he absentmindedly stared at his MacBook Air. For almost six hours since he entered the office at eight in the morning, his mind had been drifting to the coffee shop quite a many blocks away.

_Café Indulgence_ was the name and he could not have found anything else more fitting in his current predicament.

 A week had passed since he first saw the waiter, this _Red Woods Version Two,_ this _Arthur_ guy, and he found himself in perfect attendance in the coffee shop. And in those five days he had been _indulging_ himself with the sight of Arthur’s ass and the sound of that _boner-ific_ accent. In those seven days, Alfred learned that the daily newspaper was helpful enough to cover the obvious formation of a hill on his crotch.

_‘Art…hhuur’_

He could see his reflection on the black screen, and he watched the way his mouth moved slowly when he recited the name in such a breathless manner, loving how it felt so easy to say, noting that it was the kind of name he would love to yell during sex. Come to think of it, he never bedded any _Arthurs_ in his whole damn life and he could not help but think that maybe there was a reason for that.

 Alfred stopped his lips from stretching into a hopeful grin and quickly replaced it with a frown that expressed disbelief when he realized he was slowly turning into a creepy shit assed fuck.

“Oh god this is so stupid!” He rolled his eyes, groaned, and then proceeded to ruffle his own hair as if this action will help him get rid of the sinfully sexy distraction that kept popping up in his head. He did not notice Gilbert arriving and stopping just a step away from his cubicle, looking at him with confusion etched on his face.

“O…kay”” When Alfred heard someone behind him, he abruptly turned around and looked at Gilbert with a surprisingly relaxed expression.

“Oh hey, Gil. Do you need something?” He asked before clearing his throat, his hands leaving a huge mess of tangled strands in his head that still nonetheless made him look like the handsome man he always was. Gilbert’s eye twitched at this but chose not to comment on it. 

“Yeah, but I seem to have disturbed you in the middle of… something.” Gilbert made a turn to move and walk away, a forced smile on his face. “I think I’ll just go—”

 “No!” Gilbert had barely taken a step away when Alfred, to his surprise, shot up from his seat and grabbed his arm, tripping on his own feet in the process and if it were not for his grip on Gilbert he would have fallen face first on the floor. _Not that it’ll make him ugly or anything,_ Gilbert thought bitterly. But don’t get the guy wrong? He was not, absolutely not, jealous at all. He got his own awesome-centric charms!

 “Bro, you’re acting weird and we’re not sure yet if that’s something contagious so I really should go.” Gilbert turned again but Alfred caught him and pulled his body back so they would meet eye to eye.

 “I wasn’t acting weird!” Alfred defended as he regained his footing. “And for that to come from you of all people!”

 “I never acted weird.” Gilbert denied with a snort.

 “I caught you smelling your foot in the men’s toilet yesterday.”

 “I did it under completely normal reasons.”

 “The reasons don’t matter. The thing is you smelled your foot, you did it, and it was weird.” 

“It’s not.”

 “I saw you trying to lick your elbow the day before.” 

“And I was successful.” 

“It was weird.”

“I was successful.”

Alfred deadpanned then shook his head when he saw Gilbert looking back at him unfazed. His friend simply shrugged at everything he said, looking at his nails and fingers even, the same way people did in movies when they were bored. He remained silent, crossed his arms, and then leaned on his side against the wall of his office cubicle. He was waiting for Gilbert to tell him the reason for his visit, and he knew that Gilbert knew full well what he was trying to tell him even without opening his mouth. But his German friend simply shrugged and stared right back at him as a form of challenge. Realizing that Gilbert was now just playing with him and testing out his patience, Alfred sighed and decided to bring out his most effective card against the other.

“Not a lot of people can lick their elbows.” 

“Uh huh.”

“Impressive tongue you got there then. No wonder Iva—”

“There’s this place down the street that Antonio saw and he wanted to try and he’s asking us to join him there for an afternoon break.” Gilbert said before Alfred got to finish his sentence. He smiled triumphantly, trying his best to suppress the laughter bubbling in his throat. Gilbert’s face was completely blank, but Alfred could see how stiff the man had become. He wanted to say how pretending to be unaffected in front of him was futile (god they were friends for years!), but Gilbert’s reaction was amusing so he decided not to.

“Alright. We leaving now?”

“Yes.”

 “Okay.” Alfred detached himself from the wall he leaned at. “Let’s go.”

 They proceeded to walk side by side in complete silence, but not one that was uncomfortable. Alfred drowned himself momentarily with his own thoughts, feeling glad for the distraction that Antonio’s invitation and Gilbert’s amusing personality brought. This place, whatever it was called although he was pretty sure that Gilbert had not mentioned what it was called really so it was not his fault, would provide just enough distraction for Alfred. Because he sure needed to be around a new environment— somewhere that was not his office, without his laptop that tempted him to watch porn every minute, without the boring walls that had him spacing out and daydreaming about banging this certain human being with blond hair. Also, somewhere that was not the coffee shop where said human was working.

 “Where are the others?” Alfred asked as they boarded the elevators. Gilbert pressed the ‘G’ button and they both looked up the red flashing numbers on top of the doors out of habit (because really, they work at an office and it became everyone’s practice to look up those numbers in silence, praying for the damn elevator to go faster). He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket so he fished it out and began scrolling through his Facebook notifications.

 “They’re already at the lobby.” Gilbert answered. Alfred remained on his phone and gave the occasional nod, assuring Gilbert he was listening still. “Antonio was too damn excited he had everyone in his office out immediately. By everyone, I meant Liz and Toyota.”

 Alfred paused and lifted his head to look at Gilbert who, to Alfred’s disbelief, was grinning proudly.

 “You do know that joke expired two years ago. It’s Honda, Gilbert, Honda Kiku. Just call him with his first goddamn name it’s not that hard.” Gilbert just shrugged again and Alfred could only roll his eyes and look back at his phone. There was a new tweet from Pewdiepie. “And need I remind you that Kiku inherited a cursed _katana_ from his great great great great grandpapa? He hears you try to sell that joke again and you’re losing two of your heads.”

 “Let’s not speak about heads.”

 The elevator made a stop on the third floor, followed by a soft yet annoying _ding ding_ before the doors opened. The both of them automatically took a step back to give way to whoever it was that would join them for the rest of the ride down. Alfred’s eyes were glued to his phone, so he just trusted Gilbert’s whistling and snickering to know that whoever rode the elevator with them was someone pleasing. Also, the sudden burst of candy perfume kind of gave it away.

 “Hello there, hot stuff.” Gilbert cooed confidently and Alfred now paid attention secretly through his peripherals. It was better to act like he did not know what was going on this kind of situation; Gilbert tries to hit on someone and then he gets graciously dumped. “I bet you’re hungry. Wanna join me for lunch? Just the two of us?”

 Alfred almost smiled when the girl turned around with a raised brow. _Winter is coming._

“I would love to, Beilschmidt,” She sounded so sweet it was fake but of course only Alfred would be able to sense that. “but you see, I’m lesbian and I’m sexting the girl named Sara on your floor. Also, if I happen to be straight I’d rather fuck that friend of yours.”

 At this, Alfred raised his head, the smile on his face now stretching up to his ears.

 “He’s gay!” Gilbert exclaimed simultaneously when Alfred said, “I’m gay.”

 “But,” Alfred continued, “if I also happen to be straight I’d love to get it on with you too.”

 The girl hummed, satisfied, with her arms crossed over his fairly large breasts that it was evident on Gilbert’s face how sorry he was for himself.

 “Any chance for a threesome?” Gilbert took his chances but the girl just huffed, tilted her head, and looked straight at Gil’s eyes as if she was actually trying to consider the idea. Alfred shook his head. Gilbert was hopeless.

 “You know what?” The girl asked, and at this point Alfred decided he was tired of calling her _the girl_ so he opted to glance at her I.D. She was _Miranda Bryan._ “Call _Ivan Braginski_ and I might reconsider.”

 Alfred almost choked on his own saliva and Gilbert immediately turned pale, probably paler than the moon and Edward Cullen.

 “I-Ivan? Excuse me? What’s Ivan got to— no. How did you—? No.” Gilbert looked mortified, his hands now on each of Miranda’s shoulders and the girl did not seem to mind it much. She simply stood there, looking smug and proud of making Gilbert look like he just ate shit and only finding it out now.

 Before he could ask anymore questions and try to save his name, try to make it sound as pure as the word _virgin_ again, the doors opened with the ding ding, telling them that they were now at the ground floor and that they better hurry out because there are people upstairs who needed its services too.

 “It was nice meeting you two. Have a nice day!” With that, she stepped out and began walking towards the rotating doors of the building where Alfred could see Antonio and the others waiting for them. Gilbert was still staring in front of him as if Miranda was still there. His eyes were wide open, his mouth was wide open, and the hole that tore through his pride was wide open but they do not have time to try and patch it up. Alfred was hungry and Alfred needed to get out of this place. So without caring how bruised Gilbert’s ego was, he gave his friend a strong shove out of the elevator (to which the elevator was thankful for).

 They were out in quick steps and Antonio, who always had been too cheerful for his own good, greeted them with open arms. Alfred had no idea where his excitement was coming from, although he could kind of understand people being excited about lunch. Perhaps he was not just in the same mood today. Well fuck he had not been in his excited-because-lunch mood for the past week and he really needed to get himself together.

 “Ready to go?” Antonio situated himself in between him and Gilbert, arms going over their shoulders. Alfred had no problem with the contact, but Gilbert shrugged himself free from Antonio’s arm.

 “Oh no! We’re not! We just went down here to take a piss at your shitty face— of course we’re ready to eat! Why else would we be here!? To fuck the floor?” Gilbert almost shouted at the end of his sentence and the rest of them could just stare, but completely not surprised with the outburst.

 “Alright,” Elizabetha sighed and looked at Alfred. “Who mentioned Ivan again?” 

“Not me.” Alfred, as much as he wanted to take the blame, quickly defended. “There was this girl in the elevator, she’s from the 3rd floor and don’t ask how she knew about it. She just knows it.”

 Elizabetha’s eyes returned back to Gilbert who was now spacing out, and then she shook her head and it was all Alfred needed to tell that she did not have time to deal with the consequences of Gilbert’s messed up sex life from a year ago. When he turned to Kiku, that Japanese man was typing on his phone and it was only then that Alfred realized Kiku had not even spared them a glance since they came. Antonio was now trying to console Gilbert and Alfred was really, really hungry right now.

 “You know what? Let’s just go.” He was the first to take a step forward, knowing that the others would follow him.

 “That’s the spirit amigo!” Antonio was by his side in seconds, an arm draped around his shoulder again. The extra weight made him wobble slightly.

  “What’s this place called anyway?” He asked, genuinely curious. Antonio laughed then shrugged his shoulders. “I forgot. But you won’t regret coming!”

Alfred nodded his head. “I sure hope not.  

* * *

The place was not bad, the food was terrific, the mood was just right and to be honest it was fairly satisfying. But Alfred could not help but feel unappreciative of his surroundings because he wished, silently and deeply, that he was eating and drinking coffee somewhere else. Somewhere called _Café Indulgence_ and so what if it was kind of a weird and creepy name? Somewhere, where the waiters did not wear light blue polo shirts that were buttoned up all the way it was suffocating to look at. Somewhere were the waiter serving him— _them_ was not named Andrew.

 All in all, Alfred’s lunch with his friends, no matter how lively the conversation had been even if Gilbert was in a shitty mood, was unsatisfactory.

  He regretted coming.

 Maybe he should have just given in to what he really wanted, because so far with his daily visits at his favorite café, even if he at times felt self pity and was creeped out by his own actions, at the end of the day he felt complete. Because of the sight of Arthur K. made him feel complete, especially after masturbating with the image of Arthur K doing all sorts of acrobatic sex positions in his head come night. Although he did of course still entertained the aid of Red Woods’ videos, it was just that, after finishing his self off he would realize that through all those minutes he was not seeing red hair. He was seeing _blond_.

 “Fucker.” He muttered under his breath before downing his fifth glass of diet coke.

“What did you just say?” Elizabetha’s eyes were wide and looking at him from across the table. He stared back, blinking. “Did you just call me a fucker, Jones?” 

It was Alfred’s turn to look surprised before he realized that he said the wrong thing at the wrong time. To his defense, he was not entirely aware of what was happening and what was being said, so it was clear that when he said ‘bitch’ he was not referring to Elizabetha. To said woman’s defense, Alfred was seated right across her and there was no way he could not have heard how she kicked Roderich’s balls after learning that the months she spent seducing him was useless because he was gay. 

“Did you just call me a fucker? Did you not understand what I was saying you dick?” 

“He was not listening in the first place, Liz. Let it go.” Kiku said before Alfred could explain and before Elizabetha could hit him with her now empty plate. Alfred was just grateful because the woman brought her accusing fork back down her plate. 

“Well you better listen then. I’m telling a damn good story here.”

“She’s telling the story of when Roderich first started working at the office and how she tried to bed him.” Antonio explained for him.

 “But isn’t that something we already know?” Alfred raised a brow and Antonio laughed then patted him on the shoulder.

 “But we didn’t know that she kicked Roderich’s balls after finding out they were both pining for the same human anatomy.”

 “Oh.” That was all they got from Alfred before said man’s thoughts drifted away again. If Elizabetha wasn’t too keen on telling her side of the story more, they would have noticed Alfred being uncharacteristically quiet with his eyes jumping from one blond man to another every once in a while. Minutes passed, and passed, and passed, and Alfred’s palms grew sweatier.  The conversation he had long tuned out already was treading on another topic, but his mind remained on the same course, only speeding to the point where Alfred was close to losing it.

 Everyone shut up when Alfred abruptly stood up, hands fishing out his a few bills from his wallet to pay for his meal, which was barely touched.

 “What are you doing?” Elizabetha’s eyes looked at the money he dropped on the table beside his plate.

 “I forgot I needed to go somewhere,” Alfred hastily replied as he looked at his watch, an action meant to make him look convincing. “and it seems that I’m running late.”

“Woah, wait!” Gilbert caught his arm as he turned. “I thought you were free?”

 He shook his arm free and gave an apologetic smile. “I thought I was too. Really sorry ‘bout this. I’ll make sure to join you again next time.” Before any more questions were fired at him, he turned his back to his friends and quickly left.

 The time he spent walking and finding his way back to a familiar road that would lead him to his most anticipated destination did not take long, although his legs ached as if they climbed the Himalayas. His breath was running in short puffs when he finally saw the familiar letters above the doors that opened to his fantasies. It was not easy to walk in a hurried pace in a city full of pedestrian obstacles, but Alfred’s hardships proved to be worth it when, after slightly bending on his knees to catch his breath before crossing the street and finally making an entrance, Arthur K. appeared at the door with his blond hair reflecting the sunlight beautifully. Alfred felt replenished. _Oh my god he’s still gorgeous._

 He straightened his clothes and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His fingers ran through his hair in an attempt to lessen its unruliness. He briefly checked his reflection at a slow passing car, and when the pedestrian light switched to green, he was the first to cross the street.

 Alfred watched Arthur K take orders under the shade of the umbrella from the corner of his eyes before he pushed the doors open. The woman behind the counter, who he now identified as Katy, greeted him with her usual smile.

 “What would you be having today?” She asked and Alfred took his time making a decision until he heard the door open, accompanied by a soft chime and light footsteps. Arthur K. just walked in and gave a nod to Katy. Alfred pretended not to notice even if the urge to turn his head and follow Arthur K’s figure was strong. He chewed on his lip, took a deep breath, and focused on collecting himself.

 “I think I’ll have a macchiato today. And maybe a glazed doughnut?” He calmly stated, fished his card out and waited for her to ask him to enter his pin. “Thank you sir. Your orders will be brought to you shortly.”

 Alfred almost said ‘oh I can’t wait’ but he was already walking toward his favorite spot, which he then found out was occupied. He abruptly stopped, his left eye twitching at the discovery. That spot was _his_ and it should have been clear after his day-to-day visit at that place. The plates and glasses were still full, barely touched, and so it did not seem like the occupants would leave and surrender his seat anytime soon. Without having much choice (unless he march up to them and drag them away), Alfred turned and took a seat at the opposite end of the place.

 His orders did not take long to arrive, but Alfred was disappointed to receive his doughnut from someone else. And as it was carefully placed down the table with a soft clink, he secretly stared at Arthur who was having a short conversation with Katy by the counter. He frowned. It would really be damn fucking great if he chose to have a conversation with him instead. It would be fucking terrific, but then again what would they talk about?

 Alfred muttered a ‘thanks’ and shook his head when asked if he wanted anything else. _‘Unless Arthur’s on your menu then yes, a honey-glazed Arthur would be nice.’_

“Your drink will be served in a few.” The waiter said with a tone that was sharp enough for Alfred to notice if he were actually paying attention.

He grudgingly took a bite from his doughnut, and then another again when Arthur K. turned his back on his and walked away. _Holy hell_ he would be willing to lose three of his fingers just for an opportunity to sink his teeth in those firm ass cheeks. When Arthur K. was gone from his sight again, Alfred quietly hummed to himself and leaned back comfortably. His eyes drifting up at the ceiling as he chewed, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. Soon enough, with his relaxed position, Alfred’s eyes closed and he easily drifted off to imagining things that were highly inappropriate for children to know.

 This time, he started off with the image of Red Woods kneeling between his knees inside the men’s restroom. His hands bound behind him with Alfred’s tie, and tears had long gathered at the corner of his eyes from being forced to fucking take Alfred whole until his nose was buried in Alfred’s pubic hair. Arthur could only pull when Alfred permitted him to, when Alfred felt like the vibrations he felt crawling on the veins of his dick was goddamn satisfying enough to let Arthur breath. A string of saliva and precum connected them, and with a mere inch of movement the connection would break and stick down Arthur’s chin.

‘ _You still haven’t made me cum, Artie.’ He tipped the waiter’s head up with his fingers on the man’s chin. ‘Is that all the sucking you can do?’_

_‘N-no.’ Arthur met his eyes and propped himself up with the little strength he had left, almost closing the gap between them but Alfred would not let it.. ‘M-master, I can d-do… more.’_

 Well fuck him. Alfred felt his dick twitch from beneath his pants but he ignored it.

 Diving down deep in his thoughts kept him from noticing the small commotion that was happening at _his_ stolen table from the other side of the place, and with his eyes closed he failed to see how his favorite waiter just got drenched with strawberry milkshake from stomach to crotch. Had Alfred seen the pink stuff slowly crawling down Arthur K’s inner thighs, soaking it enough to see a liquid trail that was unbelievably enticing to look at, the American idiot would have forgotten his humanity and fucked the waiter then, not caring if everyone could see. Though such a wild scene was already happening inside his head and for a moment, if was able to sate him. _For a moment._

‘ _Shit.’_ His eyes snapped open as he silently cussed. He was _hard._

“Here’s your drink—

 “Aah!” Alfred quickly crossed his legs and leaned forward a bit, arms tucked on his chest. The same brunet waiter that gave him his doughnut looked down at him with a raised brow.

 “—sir,” The man finished and carefully placed his mug beside his plate. Alfred’s eyes caught his name tag: Lovino. “Are you alright?” He was asked with a suspicious look and Alfred knew that this Lovino guy had every right to be suspicious.

 “I’m great!” Alfred answered a bit too cheerful than he intended and it made Lovino jump slightly away. “Thanks but I don’t really need anything else.”

 He was sure he heard the other say ‘ _I didn’t ask.’_

“Right. Just um, call someone if you need something.” Alfred may be dense, but he was sure that it was the guy’s indirect way of saying to go fuck with someone else’s life because he was so done serving him. Again, Alfred thought that Lovino had every right to think that especially when he was having a conversation with a customer who looked constipated if a lifetime of shit was shoved up his ass.

 “N-no, actually,” His voice made Lovino turn to look at him again and it took quite some strength for the waiter to suppress a sigh. “can you tell me where the restroom is?”

 “There.” The man pointed at a door by the corner at the other end, a few feet to the right of the staff room.

 “Thanks. That would be all.” He smiled and Lovino quickly turned away, obviously wanting to be as far away from him as possible. If it were another day Alfred would have made an effort for the guy to like him, because Alfred Jones was a very likable guy and no one could possibly hate him. Except Lovino, but Lovino had not really had a proper conversation with him yet (truthfully though they exchanged more words than he did with Arthur) so the guy could not possibly know what he was missing.

 When Lovino walked out the door and there was no one else who seemed to be looking at him and his way, Alfred stood up, thighs hitting the table and making his drink spill a bit, then briskly walked toward the restroom with as much poise as possible. Hopefully, his boner was well hidden beneath his untucked shirt. 

“Oh my god.” He breathed. Relief flooded his heart when no one else was there when he entered. But not wanting to risk being found out his little—no, big, big secret in his pants, Alfred selfishly locked the door. Those who wanted to piss could piss outside until he found a way to calm his cock down.

“Okay, now what.” Alfred tried to even his breath first before deciding to splash cold water on his face. The sound of it flowing out from the faucet and running down the sink gave a comforting feeling. When he looked up the mirror he was surprised to see his face flushed red he could qualify as a vegetable in his grandmother’s garden but she was already dead and so was the garden so that was no longer possible.

 “No wonder he looked at me like shit.” He rolled his eyes at the image of Lovino almost glaring at him. He was sure if he were not a customer, the brunet would have hit him with a tray and accused him of being a pervert.

 That line of thought successfully distracted him and he felt his dick slowly going soft again. But it still was noticeable if one would really try to notice it. Alfred sighed and instead of using his hands to splash his face again with cold water, he opted for just putting his entire face under the faucet. The water flowed and hit his cheek first, and eventually his whole face and a few hair strands were completely wet. After a minute or so, the coolness against his skin helped him relax and soon enough, the problem in his pants was gone. His penis had humbled itself down and Alfred straightened up looking relieved.

‘ _Good god.’_ He thought as he turned and leaned his back against sink. The things that went in his head and everything that helped led him to his situation played in his head and made him frown. With a small frown on his face, Alfred crossed his arms over his chest and for once in his life he reflected on his actions in the last ten or fifteen minutes that passed.

Since when had he sunken low like this? Since when had he let himself be drifted away by his fantasies? The answer was never. Because Alfred was a man of action and he never let his daydreams be just daydreams. He dragged his imagination to his reality and never let them stay in his head. Because what Alfred wanted, Alfred got. He would not just sit down and close his eyes and simply dream of every fucking possibility there was on fucking someone he deemed fuckable. He would not be merely standing in the men’s restroom while staring at the open toilet cubicles and begin fantasizing again about receiving a goddamn excellent blowjob from the most talented tongue possibly in the whole fucking universe and oh my god— _oh my fucking god_ he was hard again. 

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, arms flying in the air before he turned around to glare at his reflection. _‘What a fucking disappointment.’_ Alfred thought and he of course was referring to his self. He was better than this. He was better than letting his dick take over and lead his day. He was—

“Is someone in there?” The voice from outside was followed by two soft knocks at the door and Alfred almost jumped from where he stood. He felt mild panic creep into him, but the annoyance and irritation over his current predicament won his mood over and all he could think about was to yell and tell whoever it was to go piss somewhere else. “Hello?” 

Alfred chose not to answer and instead focus on how to solve his problem. Should he wet his face again? Would it work the second time? Alfred was staring at his reflection as if waiting for it to give him an answer, but his reflection was just as disappointing as he was and was of no help. Not that he truthfully believed it would talk. That would have scared him shitless.

The knock on the door became insistent and Alfred continued to ignore it, but his decision to act deaf was rewarded with the sound of a shaking doorknob followed diligently, to his utmost horror, by the soft click of freedom. _The door was unlocked._  

“No.” 

Alfred’s eyes widened when light from the outside began to peek in the small gap that was going to widen in two seconds as the person on the other side of the door continued to push it open. With adrenaline taking over, Alfred bolted towards it with the will to push it back close, lock it, and regain his peace. But of fucking course life decided to fuck with him just a little bit more, and Alfred’s effort was easily flushed down the toilet when, the very moment he reached the door he was already three seconds late. 

“Wait no—!” He never got to finish his sentence. He actually did not even know if there was even a point in letting those two words escape his mouth. When his hand landed on the door to push it back, eyes were already staring up at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. But what made Alfred’s blood run cold was those eyes were not just any other eyes; they were green. As green as those blazing emeralds that often gaze up in him in his dreams as their owner begs Alfred to fill his slutty puckering hole with eight inches of cock. 

“Sir?” Arthur K. blinked fast twice and seemed to analyze what was happening. At least the waiter still had the sense to try and understand the situation. Alfred on the other hand had just lost all sense.

Those green eyes caught him off guard completely, and every unnecessary memory he had that involved the blond waiter’s face swept through his thoughts like a motherfucking tidal wave. He was, as of that moment, the stupidest guy in the whole planet, and since he currently held that title he gave it justice and extended his hand to the still confused waiter for a handshake. 

“Hi.” He breathed out. “Alfred Jones. Huge fan.”

The way Arthur K’s eyes widened told Alfred that shit just went down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I was able to give birth to this chapter but thanks for reading! Comments, suggestions, clarifications, and violent reactions are welcome. :) Thanks again!


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur had had his own suspicions about the blond man who frequented his workplace over the past week. Well everyone did have their own thoughts and guesses, but to Arthur, this _Alfred_ as what he heard from Katyusha, was far from being a government spy or a criminal looking for his next murder victim.

He knew how trustworthy his instincts were, and it may have been amplified by his paranoia, his worry that he would still be recognized despite reverting back to his original blond hair. Arthur already removed his piercings as well even if he did not want to, especially the silver stud he loved having on his tongue. He was being extra careful, his tattoos were concealed under his clothes. So he decided that maybe, hopefully, their coffee was really just worth going back for.

Apparently, he was wrong. Painfully, stupidly, fascinatingly wrong.

"Hi." Arthur stared at the outstretched hand. "Alfred Jones. _Huge fan._ "

His jaw dropped and his eyes widened but only for a moment before he was able to catch himself from being too obvious that those were the very words he feared on ever hearing.

"E-excuse me?" Arthur tried to look confused, tried to look clueless, tried to appear as if he had no idea what this Alfred Jones said. He even tried to deny that the man before him indeed recognized who he was, and that Alfred was merely a fan of Arthur Kirkland, a waiter he happened to have taken a fancy on ever since he stepped in the café. But there was a spark of familiarity past those glasses and in those blue eyes, and Arthur, as much as he wanted to fight his gut instincts, knew that Alfred recognized him.

Still, that did not mean Arthur would easily give the information up and walk away, let the American think what he would like to think.

"Y-you're," Alfred took a step forward, and Arthur found his feet rooted on the spot and unable to step back. He was towered over by an equally surprised customer. He had his hands ready to push the man away if the gap between them was once more attempted to be closed.

To his relief, Alfred took a step back again, wide eyes now wandering everywhere but Arthur's face. There was a sheepish, reluctant smile on his face, which Arthur only came to appreciate after seconds of dumbfounded staring.

"I'm sorry." Alfred said, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just, I thought you were… someone else."

Okay so the guy was retracting. Good. Arthur tensed muscles relaxed, however his eyes still never left Alfred's and it must have been a bad idea to continue staring because when Alfred met his eyes with a look of something akin to determination, Arthur felt his blood rushing again.

"But," Alfred took a step forward, again, and Arthur was rooted on his spot, again. _'But,'_ he said. ' _Buts'_ were not good, never good, especially in his current predicament.

"B-but?" He raised a brow, arms folded and his hands on his chest with his palms open and ready to push Alfred any moment. Or at least that was the plan, but before he even realized it, Alfred's hands were already on his shoulders and the American's face was close to his. Too close. He could see every detail in Alfred's eyes. "S-sir?"

"Quick question, I'm just really curious." Alfred bit his lip, and Arthur unconsciously mimicked him. It was surprising how he felt so conscious and embarrassed with the proximity of their faces, and Arthur almost wanted to scold him for being so unprofessional only to remember that _no,_ he was no longer living _that_ lifestyle anymore and the cameras had long made an exit in his life.

"What is it?"

"Are you…?" Alfred fidgeted. "You see it's just, you look like someone and I just wanna know if it's you."

"It's not me." He quickly answered, eager to get out of the situation that seemed to be getting worse for him.

"No! I think it's you!" Alfred answered back almost immediately as if he refused to walk out the door without knowing that his assumptions were right. When Arthur appeared to be startled, the American gave an apologetic smile. "Oh my god I'm sorry I didn't me to— okay, you see, you look like this um, famous person."

_Famous?_ Arthur almost rolled his eyes. Of course. _Of fucking course_ he was famous and last time he checked, the newbie who took after him as Ranked #1 in the world still hadn't beat his record sales.

"He's, this person, he's an actor." Alfred looked relieved that he finally got a near enough word to try and get his message through. Still acting innocent, Arthur blinked and raised his brows.

"Like Brad Pitt? Johnny Depp?" He not-so-helpfully supplied but hoped that Alfred would say yes. Who knew? Maybe after all he did have a look-a-like in Hollywood.

"Um, no." Alfred shook his head. "Not that kind of… actor."

Arthur was beginning to panic. He had to build and set his protective barriers quick.

"Err, is he a theatre actor?"

"No."

"From you drama club in high school?"

Alfred shook his head but oddly, to Arthur's annoyance, looking hopeful as if waiting for Arthur to arrive at the word he knew he was looking for.

"Drama club in middle school?"

"No."

"…preschool?" Arthur mentally whacked himself. One of the things he hated the most was playing stupid because first and foremost, it was hard to play stupid when he was not stupid in the fucking first place.

"I apologize, sir, but I can't continue playing this guessing game." The word stupid was left out. He took a step back, one hand resting on the door to make it obvious that he was itching to leave but it only seemed to make Alfred more pushy.

Now that he thought of it, it was kind of creepy because he _was_ a _pornstar_ for godsake, and Alfred recognized him but recognizing him was not enough. The man had to confirm it, to know that he was right. Arthur thought, and then what? What if he said yes? Will this Alfred Jones be asking for his autograph? A picture? Was he going to post it online and announce to the world that he found the record-breaking Red Woods working in a humble café?

Or maybe, Arthur thought, Alfred wanted to sleep with him? Make his fantasies real like a dream come true the same way that kids from the Tellytubby era dreamt of eating Tubby Toasts? Did that sentence even make sense?

"I'm creeping you out." Alfred said, frowning and looking even more apologetic than before that Arthur did not deem it possible. He almost felt sorry, _almost,_ but he remembered that this guy was a fan, a diehard fan of who he was more than a year ago.

He was genuinely curious to know the answer to, ' _and then what?'_ if he were to reveal who he was, but he knew better and decided against it.

"Yes you are." Arthur admitted, and the look on Alfred's face made him feel bad.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"I just really thought you were him."

"It's alright. You're a fan and I understand." He offered a comforting hand to Alfred, his palm landing on the taller blond's chest without thinking. When the contact was made, both were suddenly hyper aware of everything. Arthur quickly but awkwardly withdrew his hand. He silently cursed at himself for being too affected by everything.

"T-thanks." Alfred exhaled.

"No problem." Arthur answered, and things just became an awkward step higher than it was seconds ago.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, eyes casted to the side as he silently prayed for anything to save him from the very unlikely situation he accidentally put himself to. Let there be a flying fridge somewhere! Or an alien invasion! Let the ground come alive and eat him then there! Alfred cleared his throat, nodding, and Arthur forced himself to laugh, acting that he found everything to be funny, which it probably was if it were not him that was in that moment.

"So uh," Alfred started and Arthur looked at him expectantly, secretly glad for that tiny flicker of hope that Alfred's opening could lead to the end of their conversation, meaning that Arthur could go back to his merry, waiter life. "I know I've been creepy and all but I swear I'm not always like this." Alfred paused and gave Arthur a hesitant look. "I'm still welcome here in this place, right?"

"Oh." Arthur blinked. It was totally not the kind of question he expected. When he came to, he nodded his head and pulled the corners of his lips up, but not too much. He did not want to come out as completely fine with the idea.

But in the end, he overdid himself by bursting out loud and clasping his hands.

"Of course! Why not? I mean, you know," ' _Fuck, that was louder than I intended.'_ Alfred's shoulders noticeably jerked up in surprise and Arthur wanted to kick his own bum. He stupidly continued anyway. "well, this is America! The great U.S. of A. Land of the free! Why wouldn't you be welcome here? Of course, you can stop by here anytime. Anytime. Haha."

For a while, Alfred seemed taken a back. It was like the world just turned a hundred and eighty degrees and now Arthur was playing the creepy card. His forced laughter gradually died down as he looked away, waiting for Alfred to react. Well, the American could not possibly blame him now for acting weird. Alfred weirded him out first!

When Arthur looked back at him, to his surprise, Alfred was smiling. _Genuinely_ smiling and his perfect teeth could reflect the sun's rays and blind every single person in the entire planet. Thank the heavens they were indoors.

"This is great!" Alfred exclaimed. Relief was painted all over his face. "I wouldn't wanna go back here if I'm gonna make you uncomfortable, you know. So, this is just… great. Really, dude. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Arthur's jaws were starting to hurt from smiling too much. It was probably the longest smiling time he had to endure in his whole entire life. He was now starting to make a mental list of all the gods and saints he knew from every religion so he could start praying for this conversation to reach its goddamn end.

"Well, I think I should be going now." Alfred said. _Finally._ "I haven't finished my coffee yet and I've inconvenienced you already."

Not wanting to b the jerk at the other end of the conversation, Arthur chuckled and, without really thinking about it, he responded with, "It's no big deal. I just need to wash my… pants." and he regretted feeling the need to say more.

"Oh." Alfred's eyes travelled down to his wet crotch, lingered there for a second longer than necessary, before coming back up to look at Arthur's face. "Oh."

"I'm clumsy." Arthur blurted out defensively even if it really was not his fault.

"I see."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Alfred pursed his lips, eyes wide and unblinking. The mad effort in trying to retain eye contact and not look back down Arthur's crotch was oh so evident it made Arthur's face heat up from embarrassment.

"I think I really should leave now." The words flew out of Alfred's mouth very, very fast.

"Yes you do." Arthur's response was immediate.

The doorway was unfortunately narrow for the both of them to pass through at the same time. They bumped their shoulders into one another, and with Alfred being the bigger human, the impact caused Arthur to stumble back. He gasped, caused both by the slight yet surprising pain and from almost falling butt first on the floor. But his wrist was snatched by a firm hand, pulling him with a strength that he swore was capable of breaking the bones in his arm. Everything happened so fast and the second Arthur was able to catch his breath and register what just happened, he was already face to face with Alfred's chest.

Arthur pushed himself away and Alfred backed up, looking just as bewildered as he was.

"I, um, I—lol." Alfred had not idea what to say. ' _Lol? LOL? What?'_ Arthur's brows furrowed. "I gotta go." Alfred muttered.

This time, Alfred carefully distanced himself from Arthur's body when he walked past him. Arthur was able to note how Alfred's arms were raised as if he was surrendering, or as if Arthur was a dead cockroach and Alfred would not want to have anything to do with a dead insect.

As soon as Alfred was clear from his vision, Arthur hastily pulled the door and went inside the restroom. A lungful of breath escaped him as he faced his reflection in the mirror, and it was only then that he realized how embarrassingly flustered he was with his cheeks and forehead and neck obviously red— _oh my bloody god_ what just happened?

Bad shit. Bad shit just happened and he direly wished Alfred Jones lost the guts to come back in the cafe and it did not matter that Alfred, looking past through his creepiness, was admittedly hot.

Shame.

Arthur shook his head, sighed, and had the water running down the tap.

* * *

Was it a bad day or a good day? Alfred cannot decide. There were a lot of factors to consider, starting with how his not so innocent boner became the way to bumping into Red Wo— _Arthur._ Arthur K. God he still did not know what the 'K' stood for but whatever.

So far so good, and his penis fortunately sobered down from the shock followed by a huge wave of nervousness and panic after meeting Arthur eye to eye, although the waiter was a good few inches shorter than him. That meant, there was no evidence that he was shamelessly hard just a couple of minutes prior.

But then came the bad part a.k.a the 'hi-Alfred-Jones-huge-fan' part, which was just the beginning of his downfall. Alfred could have just stopped after his name, but he just had to add the 'huge fan' after, and the look on Arthur's face, the confusion and fear of encountering a blabbering idiot weirdo at the door of the restroom, was something that Alfred would have a problem forgetting.

If it were under another circumstance, he would take his precious time thinking how cute Arthur looked. He made a mental note on trying to get that kind of reaction again from Arthur, but for a completely different reason this time, something that would not involve making himself look stupid. But then again, that was if there was still going to be a next time, and the answer to that relied on the conclusion of whether it was a good day or not.

' _Goodness fucking gracious.'_

Alfred closed his eyes and leaned back, feet maneuvering his swiveling chair to do its job— to swivel. He delved deep, deep in his thoughts, and his mind was probably working more than it usually would when Alfred did his actual, paying job. It was clear as day that Arthur was not Red, judging by the waiter's reaction, not to mention that Arthur looked so innocent (and Alfred wanted nothing more than to taint him) when he blinked his eyes in obvious confusion. Arthur could not even get what kind of actor Alfred was trying to refer to without having him say it directly. It was as if the word 'porn' did not exist in the waiter's vocabulary. Or maybe Alfred was really just so goddamn perverted that he forgot everybody else was not exactly a hardcore porn star fan just like him.

Arthur did tell him that he was still absolutely welcome to return, because as far as the waiter was concerned, he was in the land of the free and there was no such thing as not being able to visit your favorite café in the land of the fucking free, that until Alfred stared at Arthur's wet crotch. Now that, Alfred had no idea if he would classify it as a good thing or not although for the record, Arthur invoked curiosity in his wet jeans by mentioning he had to wash his pants. How was Alfred supposed to react? Was he supposed to look up at the ceiling and say 'gosh dude I feel so sorry for your pants do you need some help?'

"Hey Alfred, can you help me out with—"

"NO!"

Toris stared back at him that same way Arthur did when Alfred proclaimed himself a huge fan. Slight difference though, Alfred found Arthur cute and sexy, but he found Toris to be nowhere near fitting the description. So instead of feeling sorry at having yelled at Toris, he waved the poor, shocked man away. His arm did big movements on pushing the air towards the left. There was an annoyed look on his face. When Toris was gone he rotated his chair a few degrees until he was face to face with his face reflected on the black screen of his Mac.

Now, back to the matter at hand.

' _Jesus!'_

Was it a good day or a bad day? Was he going back or not? Maybe he was thinking of an answer to wrong questions? Maybe what he really should be asking himself was, could he bare not seeing Arthur K ever again, or not?

"Jones!"

"What the fuck is it this time!?" Alfred almost slammed his hands on his desk, but he opted for the peaceful way, which was simply turning around and letting the squeak of his chair speak for his irritation. The bitter look on his face was quickly swept off, however, upon the sight of a pissed of Ludwig.

"Do you have a problem with me?" Ludwig crossed his arms, one foot tapping against the polished floor. Alfred forced a smile, and made sure that it was obvious how _forced_ his smile was.

"Nope." He replied, making the 'p' pop loudly for the sake of pushing Ludwig just a little bit more off the edge, but not dangerously enough. Alfred still valued his life after all.

"Right. As if I'd believe that." Ludwig rolled his eyes then looked at Alfred sternly, not once breaking eye contact as he tossed a stack of papers on Alfred's desk. "Look, Jones, I don't care what your problem is exactly but for the love of god leave your sexual frustrations at home."

"What!?" Alfred exclaimed. The corner of Ludwig's lips twitched, trying to hide a smile, or maybe even a laugh.

"You tell my brother everything." Ludwig said as a matter of factly, and taking his turn to irk Alfred, he leaned in a bit closer, a firm hand rested on his shoulder. "You forgot something, Jones. Women talk."

"But I didn't even—"

"I need those reports on my desk by five."

Alfred did not even get to finish his statement when Ludwig turned and left, a subtle skip in his steps, giddy from turning the tables on Alfred. It was supposed to be him making fun of Ludwig, not the other around! And what was the deal with Gilbert?

He glared at the pile of work on his desk, and decided that that will have to wait. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed Gilbert's number. So what if Gilbert was in a shitty mood? Alfred was in a shitty mood himself and it was not even caused by the happening in the café anymore! After a few rings, Gilbert's voice went through and it sounded as loathing as it did when they came up to meet Antonio and the rest for a supposedly enjoyable lunch.

" _The hell are you calling for, Al?"_

"Did you tell Ludwig I'm sexually frustrated?" He asked as he slumped down his seat, his face smeared over by disbelief and a look of betrayal. There was silence for a while, and it was beginning to last longer than Alfred's patience. "Gilbert!"

" _It just came up! Geez, what the hell don't shout damn it!_ " Gilbert did not even sound apologetic in the slightest. " _What's the big deal?_ "

"What's the big deal!? What the big d— alright, listen, and _listen goddamn carefully._ "

" _Okay._ "

Alfred took a deep breath in and then out.

"Ludwig called you a woman."

" _He did what!?_ " Gilbert's voice rose plenty enough for Alfred to hear even with his phone not touching his ear. Gilbert became more and more affected when he repeated it again and again. " _Ludwig called me, the awesome me, a woman? A. Woman? He called me—_ "

" _So what!? Is it so bad? Degrading? You got a problem with women!?_ " It was Elizabetha's voice. " _Come here and let me tell you a little something about women._ "

As soon as Alfred heard a chair being pushed, which meant Liz was surely standing up and towering over Gilbert's poor soul, Alfred decided it was the perfect time to end the call.

" _No Liz wait—_ "

Click! Call ended.

Alfred still felt down and remorseful and everything bad after everything that had happened, but at least a little bit of those bad vibes disappeared, all thanks to Gilbert. He would probably suffer an ear-load of rants and complaints from Gilbert when he returned, but hey, that came with the possibility of seeing his face swollen from Elizabetha's punches.

For the second time he eyed his paper work with full on hatred, but if Ludwig was there he would have glared at Ludwig instead for having distracted him from making one of the hardest decisions he was to make in his life.

Ugh. Whatever.

He began scanning through the stapled pages. The sooner he could get the work done, the sooner he could go home. There was no way he was going to stay at the office until seven. Not with all the thinking that was needed to be done.

He could come with a decision later on bed.

* * *

" _Please sir. I need to get a passing grade or my parents will get mad._ "

He stood there before the desk, the only thing that separated him from the poor excuse of a teacher. His hair was gelled, making it obediently parted at the side and flat against his head.

" _But you failed, Mr. Woods._ " came the gruff voice of the acting teacher as he leaned forward, muscled, tattooed arms parallel to each other on top of the wooden table. His hands were clasped, and there was a thoughtful look on his face but it could not fool anyone.

" _I really need to pass sir._ " Red Woods' green eyes glistened behind his red, round shaped eyeglasses. He bit his lip, seemingly choking back a sob. " _I don't want to disappoint my parents. I'm the eldest child. Please sir, I will do anything just to pass._ "

" _Anything?_ "

" _Anything._ "

The teacher rubbed his fingers in his chin, appearing to give it a thought. Red's fingers fiddled with the hem of his striped shirt. He was biting his lip, nervously waiting for his teacher's answer, hoping that his teacher would be so kind and consider. After all, he was willing to do _anything_. Let the gods grace his thoughtful teacher with kindness.

" _Are you sure?_ " The teacher asked again, and when Red nodded his head, gone was the kind, patient, understanding, and endearing teacher image. What was now seating on the chair at the other side of the table was a man ready to fuck his student in every way possible. " _Okay then, Red. Strip._ "

The camera slowly panned from the pervert teacher to the now fidgeting student.

He looked so small, so weak, so vulnerable. Red was chewing on his lower lip, looking unsure but then he was already putting his satchel down the floor. Slim, trembling fingers made their way at the edge of his shirt, and slowly it was lifted up, revealing inch per inch of creamy white skin.

Back in the real world outside the computer screen, Alfred was slowly palming his own erection that was still encased within his boxers.

Red's shirt dropped right beside his bag. His hair was slightly tousled after having the stripped cloth pass over his head. When Red's hands began unbuttoning his pants, Alfred held his breath, releasing only small puffs from building anticipation despite knowing exactly what to expect. After the button was undone, the zipper was being pulled down slowly. The camera zoomed in on it, savoring every second of the zipper's journey south. The pants came next, sliding down Red's legs and Alfred wanted nothing more than to lick them.

" _Good."_ The teacher said, looking genuinely happy with that he was seeing. Alfred almost forgot about him. _"Now come here."_

Red walked over, still looking shy as ever. Gloriously, he kept his glasses on.

The teacher grinned and, not satisfied with their distance, pulled red closer to him until his student was standing in between his knees. Big hands explored the blank canvas before him. Thumbs going over already perked nipples, making Red shudder and aroused. The teacher rubbed his index finger on Red's boxer shorts until the bulge was obvious enough even without the camera zooming in on it.

When the teacher smirked and ordered for Red to kneel down, Alfred started imagining himself to be in the teacher's place and the sounds from his laptop were soon drowned away by his own voice, his own grunts and own squelching noises. He had pulled his cock out and was now pumping on it slowly.

Red knelt down with his eyes wide through his red glasses, waiting for the teacher to tell him what to do next.

" _Put your hands behind your back and unzip my pants."_

And he did, using his teeth. Slowly but surely, he dragged the zipper down, exposing an already leaking cock underneath. The acting teacher was not even wearing anything under his slacks! Not that it was important.

Red's lips formed an 'o', eyes now a bit wide from surprise and amusement. Because damn that was a large dick right in front of his face, and as far as porn was concerned, he was bound to suck it and take it all the way down his throat.

" _You know what to do._ "

The teacher said and Red nodded his head before opening his mouth and taking in the massive girth in one go.

Alfred's pumping quickened. The movements of his hand varied on the speed of Red's bobbing head. Whenever Red paused to catch his breath, Alfred's hand would stop, and when Red paid attention to the cock's head, Alfred would put pressure on his own dickhead until Red stopped and continued with deep throating the whole thing.

It continued on for long minutes, with Alfred holding back his orgasm from time to time because he was already damn too close and the video was nowhere near finished yet. The blowjob had just started. Red's asshole was still yet to be fingered while bent over the teacher's desk. But Alfred was really close now. Really, really close. The frustration that was built up from his unsatisfied boner earlier at the café made worse by the image of Arthur K's soaked crotch was getting to him.

" _mmff!_ " The choking noises entered Alfred's ears like a tempting siren's melody, tipping him over the edge. Red pulled away, gasping for air. His hair was a total mess after the teacher's fingers curled, tangled, and pulled on the red strands.

Alfred's half-lidded eyes followed the trail of saliva and precum that Red's tongue made as he nipped on the angry, protruding veins of the cock on his face. The teacher grunted, and Alfred swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in his mouth before releasing a grunt of his own. Red's mouth traveled from shaft down to the teacher's balls, sucking on each one with diligently, making sure that both got the same amount of affection from his tongue and lips. Alfred's other free hand travelled on his balls, trying to match the pleasure that Red was generously giving on the teacher's testicles.

The teacher pulled Red away by the hair. Alfred's hand continued to pump up and down, not slowing down anymore. He bit his lip and watched the teacher push Red over the table, one hand lifting and supporting one leg so that Red was wide open for the camera to see. His boxers dangled on one foot. Alfred did not even notice them being taken off. Alfred began to shudder and breath harder.

When the teacher slammed his hard, angry dick inside Red's seemingly virgin asshole in one, quick swoop, Alfred came.

His cum was hot and it flowed down his palms, dripping off the edges of his fingernails. He quickly reached out and pulled a couple of tissues from the box beside him, wiping away the white mess that caught him by surprise. There was cum trickling down his thigh. There were tiny drops that made it on his bed sheet but it was hardly noticeable. Alfred wiped everything there was to wipe. The video was still playing on his laptop and Red was now a panting, moaning mess. His glasses were close to falling off his face. The shyness and innocence from minutes ago disappeared as if he never acted like a student simply desperate for a passing grade. Now, Red was desperate for cock, and more cock, but unfortunately for him only one man was fucking him and he was not even Alfred Jones.

But at least the fake teacher did not come as quickly as Alfred did.

He clicked his tongue. He did not make it until the end of the video like he usually would. Was he getting old? No. That was ridiculous. He was not even thirty yet.

When he was all cleaned up and ready for bed, Alfred bitterly closed the video and shut his laptop down before placing it just below his bed where he always kept it. He stared up the ceiling, his whole body free from the blanket, which he tossed aside. After having just gone through his nightly activity, his body still felt warm.

He stared up at the ceiling. His mind was now clear and free, making it vulnerable to replays of that day's events with the highlight being his encounter with Arthur. Alfred closed his eyes, lips pursed, brows knitted together. His curiosity about Arthur possibly being Red Woods was now down the drain. Arthur looked at him with absolutely no idea at what he was hinting at. He was even certain that Arthur had not heard of Red Woods from the way the waiter reacted to his questions.

So what reason did Alfred still have to go back?

Sure, Arthur did tell him he was free to return, but he did not exactly promise Arthur that he certainly would and it was also not as if Arthur was surely going to expect him.

Was it just the sheer thought of Arthur being so closely alike with Red Woods that Alfred felt the urge to return? If that was it then Alfred definitely would not go back, because then he would really be proudly carrying the 'I'm a creepy pervert and I'm proud' badge and that was the last thing he was trying to achieve.

Alfred frowned, his heart thumping heavily against his chest as he made a decision. It was all for the best, for him and for Arthur as well. He turned and laid on his stomach, eyes squinting at the red numbers from his digital clock.

He was going to stop going to the café. A week had been enough, and he already got the answer he was looking for. Besides, tomorrow was a Sunday. No reason to go anywhere near the cafe. He might as well use it find other distractions, like new video games or comic books, or those manga things that Kiku always brought in the office.

Alfred closed his eyes and resolved on staying firm with his decision, but fate always had different plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it took me a while to update. Thanks for reading! :D Feel free to point out the errors.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘And your name is Arthur. Arthur K. Arthur K with the fine ass and hot accent but what the hell I ain’t gonna say that out loud.’

What was he doing there? 

Well, for starters, Alfred got up pretty early that morning at precisely five o’fucking clock. Or to be exact, he _got up_ from bed at precisely five o’fucking clock but was already awake at three. 

Three in the morning, like the devil’s hour, and the devil itself seemed to have manifested to Alfred in a form of a sexually frustrating dream that left him with an awkward, too-early morning boner.

He could not go back to sleep then, and that would explain the horrible dark bags under his eyes and the frown on his face and his shitty attitude that when he heard the old neighbor’s classical music penetrating through his walls around seven a.m., Alfred almost flipped out, but he did not, because he was a nice young man and the neighbor was actually a nice old lady who was deaf enough not to hear the amazing vocals of Alfred’s sex partners every Friday. That meant, Alfred never had to deal with complains. 

So he sucked up to it and instead, threw on the first pair of clothes his hand came across with in his too messy cabinet. Without checking himself in the mirror, he went outside, intent on looking for a decent breakfast he could take home. 

The first thing Alfred needed in the morning aside from calming down his morning boner with lotion and expert strokes, was coffee. So naturally, even with his half-sleepy mind floating somewhere else, Alfred’s subconscious took charge of his feet and minutes later he found himself in an average coffee shop he later on would realize was just simply Starbucks. 

All was well, until Alfred got his turn in line, told the cashier his orders, and then the bell by the entrance door rang soundly that it was already on anyone’s instincts to at least turn their head towards the cause of the noise even if they were not genuinely interested. It was not only him who mindlessly checked the new comer, a stranger to be expected, until Alfred got a clear shot of the man’s face.

He did not recognize him at first. A lot of people had messy blond hair, a lot of people had a blue, oversized sweater, and a lot of people wore red-rimmed glasses. 

But not a lot of people looked like Red Woods, and as far as Alfred knew, he only was able to discover one of those ‘not-a-lots’ and that man’s name was Arthur. 

_‘What is he doing here?’_

Alfred could hear his heart beating in his chest rapidly.

He watched Arthur get in line and he was just far from Alfred by four people. Arthur was gazing up at the menu with his lips pursed and his arms were crossed over his chest. Alfred would have continued to gawk if it were not for the cashier’s voice. 

“Your name?” The lady asked lifelessly, and Alfred noticed her stifle a yawn. 

“Um, why?” He asked without realizing how dumb the question was. It was only because that he was preoccupied with Arthur’s presence that he fortunately did not see the exasperated eye roll the cashier gave him. 

“We’ll call your name when your order’s ready.” 

“Oh. Then um,” Alfred blinked. His thought presence was processing in the speed of light and it mainly went like this: if Alfred gave his name then they barista will call his name and if the barista called his name everyone will hear and if everyone heard then obviously Arthur heard and if Arthur heard then Arthur would know that Alfred was there and if Arthur knew he was there then Alfred would no longer have the chance to stalk— no. 

What he meant to say was, then he would no longer have the chance to make up for the weird and terrible first impression he made three days ago. 

“My name is Pol. With an ‘O’ so it’s spelled like P-O-L.”

The cashier raised a brow.

Alfred was so obviously lying.

She chose not to say anything because all she wanted was to get this over and done with. 

“Cash or credit?” 

“Cash.” 

“That would be three dollars.”

Alfred dug his hands in his pockets, each producing a bunch of crumpled one-dollar bills, which he placed carefully on her waiting palm. She took them without much reaction, reciting the amount she received with a tone so lazy it seemed that she did not care if she was handed insufficiently. As she proceeded to go on about her boring routine, Alfred found himself shooting secretive glances over his shoulder, and he saw Arthur now typing away on his phone. He briefly wondered who he could be texting.

“Here’s your receipt. We’ll call your name when your order’s done.” The cashier said robotically and it was Alfred’s cue to step aside. He casted Arthur another glance and only did Alfred move when he was sure that Arthur was busy looking somewhere else.

There was no way he was going straight home after spotting the British waiter, and he believed it must be fate that his feet brought him in that particular Starbucks. It was not exactly the nearest one by his apartment. Rather, it was next to the next nearest to the nearest one. 

So that was like, the third nearest Starbucks. 

“Grande Americano for Pol?” 

Alfred ignored the call. He forgot in an instant, as he pulled a tabloid from the rack by the counter, that he was Pol. 

“Grande Americano for Pol?” 

Arthur was only two people away from the cashier, and Alfred used the tabloid to hide his face, revealing only a part of it as he tried to get a glimpse over the sides of the table at the corner of his eyes.

“Is there any Pol here?” 

Arthur was still texting on his phone. Or maybe he was playing games. Or maybe he was just pretending to be busy so he would not have to raise his head and look around and awkwardly have eye contact with a random person. 

The line moved again, and it was on the third call that Alfred remembered his name was Pol. 

“Pol?” 

“Oh that’s me.” He said, perking up a bit. The annoyed expression on the barista’s face was completely missed and he took his drink with an oblivious smile. 

Alfred chose a window seat, and as he strode over his chosen spot he made sure to hide his face with the tabloid again. Contrary to what he assumed he looked like, Alfred was just plain and suspiciously weird, but at least only two people so far was able to take note of that fact because everyone else was either busy actually reading the tabloids or blinking drowsiness away. 

As Alfred took his seat and his eyes were glued on Arthur’s back, he could not help but notice how cute Arthur was as he rubbed his eyes, sending his glasses askew for a bit. His sweater was not really that oversized for his frame, but it was relatively big and loose. The sleeves would fall down and cover half of Arthur’s hand, but the Brit would just stubbornly push them up to his elbows every time.

He felt a wave of déjà vu hit him, but a tiny voice in his head screamed ‘ _no it’s not fucking déjà vu you don’t have the right to use the déjà vu excuse when what you’re doing now— which is stalking to be exact— is what you have been doing consciously the past week so no this is not déjà vu this is just you being your fucking stalker self._

Alfred knew that voice was right, thus he banged his head on the table and closed his eyes. 

He should get his act together and stop acting like this, but how can he do it with _those looks_ and _those legs_ and _that cute butt_ and _those red fucking glasses_. 

Good lord where was he going to get restraint? 

“Orders are ready for… Arthur?” 

The sides of the tabloid wrinkled under Alfred’s tightening fingers. His eyes quickly scanned the place for someone or something else to look at. Something or someone that was interesting enough, more interesting than Arthur’s ass. He looked to his right and saw an old man with greying hair who was actually reading a decent newspaper compared to the one Alfred was holding, which was just filled with petty news, edits of Donald Trump’s face, and slut-shamed celebrities. 

Alfred could not possibly will himself to look at the old man for more than seven seconds.

He looked out the window to his left, view slightly obscured by the Starbucks logo painted on it, and past the two-tailed mermaid Alfred tried to focus on the bunch of teenagers on the other side of the road who carried with them huge ass posters about religion.

‘ _REPENT OR DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’_

Well aside from the excessive use of exclamation points, Alfred felt like the message personally targeted him so nope, there was no way he was going to watch them for the rest of his whole stay. 

With a resigned sigh, Alfred’s shoulders slumped and his arms gave up. He folded the tabloid close, momentarily forgetting why he spread it out across his face in the first place. He was quickly reminded of the reason however when the moment his eyes stared across, he saw Arthur sipping his tea as the Brit sat on the table across, facing him. 

_‘Oh my gooooood.’_

Alfred’s fingers clung to the tabloid with great desperation to cover his face. There was no way, no way in hell that Arthur should see him. He was still plenty embarrassed with their last encounter, and remembering Arthur’s soaked crotch back then did not in the very least help. Remembering how he acted then only made the memory worse, enough for a hard dick to soften down like a sad sea creature out of embarrassment. Although he probably deserved the shame after being so creepy to the point of having an awkward, not really unwanted boner. However this time, to be put in such a dangerous situation with the risk of having seen by a porn star look-a-like he vowed never to show his face to again, Alfred did not deserve it this time. 

Then as if the world had heard of his troubles, his phone blasted the awful tune set only for the one and only bothersome creature Alfred ever tolerated for so long.

But only because Gilbert was not lying whenever he said he was awesome. 

Alfred could not see him in that awesome light as of that moment though as he panicked and almost dropped the tabloid flat on the table. The action would have left him open and so exposed it would be impossible for Arthur to spot him. 

A few annoyed glares later from his table neighbors (all except for Arthur because for some reason, no amount of annoying ringtone could make him look at Alfred and well that was pretty disappointing for our dear American but oh well he did not want to be seen in the first place so he really had no right to complain but still—), Alfred was able to answer the call.

“What the fuck do you want?” He hissed as he sent a wary glance over the tabloid. Arthur was oblivious to Alfred’s distress, which was a good thing. 

“ _Your cock._ ”

“I’m hanging up.”

“ _No wait! I’m kidding!_ ” 

Alfred made a mental note to punch Gilbert on the nose as soon as he they met again. He ducked his head down further until his chin touched the table as if it was going to make his voice any softer. 

“ _So you see, I’m naked.”_

Alfred groaned. 

“Gil.” 

“ _Bro. I’m serious. I’m naked and I need your help._ ” 

He wanted to slam his phone down the table but the seriousness in Gilbert’s voice this time was unmistakable and Alfred had long mastered differentiating a just-fucking-with-you Gilbert and a no-bruh-I’m-not-fucking-around Gilbert. So Alfred just exhaled through his nose and waited for his friend to enlighten him. 

“ _I’m in the suburbs. I don’t how I got here lol I forgot but I have an idea coz you see, I’m naked because I just got kicked out at this chick’s house and she refused to give my fucking clothes back aaand I have no money whatsoever. Because I’m naked._ ” 

“Gilbert.” 

“ _Like, I’m in this kind of situation where I should’ve shoved a twenty dollar bill up my ass for emergency purposes like this. That bitch is kind enough to give me my phone but still! What a bitch._ ” 

Alfred sighed. His friend was an idiot. And maybe he was an idiot as well because he was friends with an idiot. Why was he friends with Gilbert again? 

Oh yeah. Because Gilbert was awesome and so was Alfred. 

“Give me the address. I’ll pick you up.” Because he had no choice and he was a good friend and there was no other reason why Gilbert called him and told him those things. 

Alfred already regretted his decision. More so when Gilbert cheered but meh. Whatever. 

His conversation over the phone just almost made him forget why he was hiding behind a stupid tabloid in the first place. As soon as the call ended, Alfred began to strategize how he was going to make it out of Starbucks without Arthur seeing his face, or noticing him entirely better yet (why did he keep on thinking that Arthur will actually give a fuck over a man with a tabloid on his face? Alfred was being too confident like really).

It was like, he was some super duper dope spy right now, trying to avoid being caught lest he might be castrated for having an awkward boner in public.

He did not bother finishing his drink. With great care, he stood up and made sure that his knees would not bump the table and that his chair would not create any noise at being pushed back. All that was left was to glue the tabloid on his face so he could free his hands because holding it up meant boring letters blocked his vision. Navigating out would be a little bit of a pain in the ass because all he could rely to was his view of the floor and his feet, and other people’s feet, and tables’ feet. 

He took it literally step by step, step by step by step. A bead of sweat formed and trickled down from his forehead to the side of his face, and then he found out that his shoelaces were untied.

_‘Potential danger of compromising escape!’_  

Alfred shook his head. No. He was going to make it out alive and boner-less. 

He breathed through his nose slowly, because breathing can be damn noisy during the times that it should not be noisy. 

It was thrilling. The suspense was building. Alfred swore he could hear eerie spy music playing in the background. Three steps later, and he was standing by Arthur’s table. The Brit was still looking outside. Another step and Alfred was completely out of Arthur’s radar. He was in Arthur’s blind spot. Another step and someone bumped into him. He tried his best not to yell, but unfortunately, the woman who bumped into him did create this screeching noise and he was forced to drop his tabloid and reveal his face.

_“_ SSSH! _”_ He placed a finger on the girl’s lips. His face made the woman stop screeching. She activated flirty mode but Alfred was having none of that because he had an idiot friend in need of saving and Alfred was a hundred percent gay.

“Hi—” 

“Nope!” He quickly dismissed, much to her disbelief, and he left her alone in haste as he bolted for the glass doors and stepped out the coffee shop before Arthur could even find enough fucks to give to turn around and spot Alfred’s stupid face. 

The cold, fresh air hit Alfred and it made him feel like he just had been cleansed from his earlier sins. He took a lungful of air and then breathed out, enjoying the relief he felt for having evaded Arthur’s eyes, which were thankfully focused somewhere else. For one reason or another, he had Gilbert to grateful for, not that he would ever tell his ass friend that. Else, he would be hearing about it for the next ten years and more. 

Speaking of Gilbert, Alfred’s phone was ringing again and now that he was out in the open, there was no reason not to raise his voice and tell Gilbert that he was a divine dick. But that was completely ignored. Gilbert sounded more serious this time and Alfred had to safely assume that rubbing his bare ass against asphalt was not really something fun unless stoned.

“ _So I forgot to give you the address but here it is—_ ”

“TAXI!” Alfred yelled the moment he spotted one. As if the driver could actually hear him pfft. Just raising his arms and waving them in the air was enough of a giveaway that he was in desperate need of a taxi unless he wanted to join the religious teenagers on the other side of the street or better yet, if he wanted Arthur to notice him.

Alfred fought against turning around to check on Arthur through the window. 

“ _Dude, I’m trying to talk._ ” 

“Okay I’m in. I’m in the taxi.”

“ _And I’m still naked. You listening?_ ” 

“Yep!”

_“Good. So this is the street that’s been kissing my ass._ ” 

* * *

Gilbert’s butt cheeks were red, either it was from the cold or that they knew the shame Gilbert had put himself in and so they were blushing in embarrassment. But Gilbert could not even care about his ass’ feelings, because after receiving a strange look from stranger who did not bother being a good son of the lord and give him clothes, Gilbert had pretty much accepted that this day was shit. 

It took exactly thirty minutes before a cab finally pulled over to the curb where Gilbert sat, and as much as he was happy to see Alfred hop off the vehicle, he could not bring himself to stand up and rejoice mainly because when he said he was naked, _he was naked_. No boxers, no briefs, no socks. Not even a leaf on hand to cover his dick. 

“I didn’t think it’s this…” Alfred trailed then pursed his lips, trying to contain his laugh because Gilbert was already glaring up at him. 

“My ass is burning.” 

“Stand up really quick and hop in the cab.” 

Gilbert turned his eyes towards the driver, and he caught the man already staring down at him from inside the cab. From the look on his face, Gilbert assumed that he didn’t want him in the car. Not in least in his naked state. 

“I don’t think your friend over there wants a bare ass on his seat.” 

Alfred shrugged. It made sense. If he were in the driver’s place, he also wouldn’t want someone’s ass to have direct contact with the backseat of his car, although it actually depends on the type of ass. It just so happened that Gilbert’s bum was not the cab driver’s type of bum.

“Hold on.” Alfred brightened, remembering the tabloid he was reading and had brought with him from the coffee shop. He retrieved it from the back seat, and only then did he see a tag taped right above the headline. It read, “PLEASE RETURN.” 

Oh well. It was an honest mistake and no one really chased after him. 

“It’s your lucky day.” Alfred said as he handed the tabloid to Gilbert, who took it from his hands harshly it almost ripped. 

He watched as Gilbert peeled the pages and separated them so that his front and back were fully covered. A sigh of relief from having finally stretched his legs shot past Gilbert’s clenched teeth that it sounded more like a hiss of pain and annoyance. Behind him, Alfred had spotted someone peeking behind the curtains in the house where Gilbert was kicked out. 

“You know what? Get in the cab. I’ll try to get your things.” He said, placing a hand on Gilbert’s shoulders. Gilbert did not look so hopeful though, and instead shook his head. But at least he did not try to discourage Alfred. 

He went inside the cab, mindful of the papers that separated his ass from the seat because the driver was looking at him through the rear mirror, and before Alfred closed the door he wished his friend goodluck, to which Alfred raised a brow. 

“She’s crazy.” Gilbert explained, and Alfred merely shrugged. He supposed that after knowing each other for so long, it was no longer surprising for Alfred that Gilbert would end up sexing a mad man, or woman in this case. 

The house looked pretty decent, but also pretty boring. Alfred was already trying to make up the character that the woman inside possibly had. Like, how crazy was she? Was she worse than the last lady Gilbert slept with a week ago? Or was this woman a level weaker? 

His finger had not even touched the doorbell yet when the alleged crazy woman opened the door, and it was on that very second when Alfred saw her mascara smeared face that Alfred confirmed Gilbert’s accusation. 

She was crazy and she threw at Alfred all of Gilbert’s damaged belongings. The clothes were ripped beyond salvation, the shoes bore holes the size of a penny, the wallet was halved and so were its contents. Alfred could only gape at Gilbert’s credit cards and IDs that were cut in half. His friend’s dollar bills also met the same fate. The only thing that survived all of this was Gilbert himself, and the only revenge that Alfred could do for Gilbert was to leave those things by the crazy woman’s doorstep.

She tore them apart, and so she rightfully had earned the responsibility in putting them in the trash. 

When Alfred returned, Gilbert wriggled his brows at him and Alfred just had the need to know what exactly did Gilbert do to that woman for his things to be turned into a pile of shit. 

“I gave her a fake name last night.” 

“And?” 

“And she isn’t very happy about being lied to. I was sleeping and then suddenly I was pushed off the damn bed and she was screaming ‘ _who the fuck is Gilbert!? Who the fuck is Gilbert?_ Apparently, she browsed through my wallet and saw my business card. _’_ ” Gilbert waved his arms in the arm and tried to mimic the woman’s voice as he repeated her lines. Alfred told the driver his address so that they could leave before the woman could even think about chasing after them. 

“And then?” 

“ _And then,_ I was like ‘ _I the fuck is Gilbert! I the fuck is Gilbert!_ ’ And then she was screaming so loud and I was still naked because of the sex last night which is, for the record, one of the worst fucking sex I had in my awesome lifetime.” Gilbert sighed, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. It felt sore. “The only thing I was able to take before she kicked me out was my phone. Thank god for that. What did she do to my things?” 

“Tore them apart. Ripped them in half. Ate some of it, possibly.” Alfred smiled and Gilbert regained his sunshine. A laugh broke past his dry lips. Alfred gave him a mint for the morning breath. “So, what did you say your name was?” 

Gilbert stared up as he tried to recall what happened and after a short while, he looked at Alfred dead in the eye. 

“Paul. Like the saint.” 

Alfred blinked back and his lips slowly curved upwards until a resounding laugh broke free. 

There was a reason why Gilbert was his friend.

The drive back to Gilbert’s apartment was filled mostly by stories of Gilbert’s tragic night and it was so tragic that the cab driver was forced to give a vocal reaction to the story (“ _I’m not always like this. Do you believe me? Hey say something, man._ ” “ _Yes I do believe you sir._ ” “ _Lol. Nah you shouldn’t really believe Gilbert._ ”) by none other than Gilbert himself. Multiple times did he bother the driving man whose only wish as of that moment was for a miracle to happen and the heavy traffic to disappear. Then the ride would be faster and the sooner will he be able to get rid of Gilbert’s noise. Alfred’s apologies were said in between fits of laughter that it was hardly heartfelt. 

It was awfully dreadful to hear Alfred to raise his voice twenty minutes into the ride and say ‘shit’ about five times before declaring that he did not have his fucking wallet in his fucking pocket. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The driver muttered under his breath. With the closed space inside the cab, Gilbert and Alfred would have heard him if not for their own loud voices as they threw insults at each other.

“You dickhead! How can you not have your wallet?” 

“Oh now I’m the dickhead?” 

“No shit.”

“You’re naked!”

“What the fuck does being naked have to do with your damn wallet!?” 

“Fucking everything! Like, I wouldn’t have lost it if you hadn’t called me to rescue your sorry ass. Literally. Your ass was about to get scabs. You know what,” Alfred lifted a hand and pushed away Gilbert’s face before he could retort and leaned towards the front area of the car as if the driver cannot hear him.

The cab driver really just wanted to punch his face. But mostly Gilbert’s face because Alfred was a tad less annoying. 

“Hey buddy, what’s your name?” Alfred asked _(because it was about time that the driver got his own name so we wouldn’t need to keep calling him as the cab driver)_ with a grin spreading all across his (stupid) face. He was too friendly that it was actually suspicious but the driver answered the question anyway. 

“Carl.” His name was Carl. 

“Hi there, Carl! Nice weather today huh? So can you turn around and go to Starbucks? The one on eight avenue? You see, I forgot something _really_ important there.” 

Carl wanted to say “ _oh let me guess you lost err I mean forgot your wallet wohoo sure why not unless I don’t wanna be paid but hey I’ve got children to feed two to be exact just in case you’re interested and concerned enough to know yes thank you._ ” But he just smiled and nodded his head before turning on the next street. Alfred sat back after thanking him and Gilbert was back to throwing insults as if he was a respectable, fully clothed man who still had his dignity intact.

“Starbucks?” Gilbert questioned, sounding disappointed for some reason that was really none of Carl’s concern. 

“Yep! Was there eating breakfast when you called and disturbed me.” Of course Alfred was not going to mention about Gilbert being some sort of divine intervention because Gilbert was far from being divine. 

A few turns and a few stoplights later, Alfred launched himself on the cab’s window when he spotted the coffee shop and Carl wanted to tell Alfred that yes he also did see it he was not blind. What the hell he was a driver for crying out loud. And then as if it was the first time Gilbert saw a Starbucks store, he joined Alfred at the unnecessary pointing and excited chanting of the coffee shop’s name. 

No one can really explain the relief that washed over Carl when he parked his car and the chanting ceased although it was quickly replaced by Gilbert complaining that Alfred was moving too slow. In Alfred’s defense, he was just being careful, looking for any potential danger. 

If he was going to be honest though, he was trying to see if Arthur was still in there by his window seat with that far away look in his mesmerizing green eyes, sipping his cup of tea with such grace that can land him a spot in Buckingham Palace and Alfred would gladly apply for any vacancies for Arthur’s assistant. He checked his watch, and then double-checked the time on the cab’s digital clock upfront. An hour and a few minutes had passed since he left so he supposed it was safe to assume that Arthur already left.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” Gilbert elbowed his ribcage. “Get out!” 

“Okay, okay!” Alfred pushed the door and stepped outside with another wary sweep at his surroundings. “I’m out.” He said, more to himself. The cold wind slapped him in the face as he strode, and the nearer he got to the entrance door the more he prayed for his wallet to be there and for Arthur to not be there. 

It was a long walk. Fifteen small steps was a long walk. He peered through the glass door when he arrived by the entrance and he swore he saw the girl on the register roll her eyes when she spotted him. Not that Alfred cared. She was simply one of the many people who had the misfortune of not being good friends with him. Much like that Lovino guy who gave him strange looks that last time he visited the damn café Arthur worked at. He wanted to change Lovino’s perspective of him because he really was not used to people hating him at first glance, but oh well. Alfred already swore to god he would not be going back in that place and check out some hot British ass. 

Speaking of which, so far Alfred had not seen any signs of a hot guy with blond hair except for his reflection in the glass. He pushed it open with confidence. One of the staff automatically gave out a greeting that was as dead as the wilted flowers in the graveyard. Alfred wanted to fetch and light that staff some candles, and he really would not have done so if a mop of messy blond hair had not popped in his line of sight out of fucking nowhere it almost scared him, almost made him yelp in surprise and disturb the supposed to be relaxing atmosphere. Fortunately he was spared from shredding off more of his remaining dignity unlike Gilbert and all he did was stand still with his mouth agape. 

The green eyes he had been seeing in his dreams were staring up at him, and the pair maybe was just as wide as Alfred’s own blue eyes. 

For the third time that morning, Alfred asked the question ‘ _What the hell is Arthur doing here?’_ in his head. 

“Oh.” Arthur was the first to break the ice. Alfred blinked and pulled himself together. “You came back.”

“I-I came back?” Alfred raised a brow and with that just one sentence Arthur said, his brain began giving out all sorts of interpretations and possibilities and fantasies as to why Arthur would say that. Could it be that Arthur had noticed him all along? That Arthur just pretended that he did not notice it was Alfred hiding behind the tabloid that was now covering Gilbert’s cock?

“Yes. That’s a relief.” There was a smile on Arthur’s face and Alfred almost, just almost, lost it. His palms were getting sweaty and the thoughts in his head were not helping his ass calm down. “I’m sorry. I don’t suppose you remember me?” 

“No!” Alfred said out loud, earning him the attention of the people with a four step radius. He cleared his throat and pretended to cough before acting all cool and shit despite his inner turmoil. “I mean, um, I remember you. You’re uh, you’re from that café right? Yeah?”

‘ _And your name is Arthur. Arthur K. Arthur K with the fine ass and hot accent but what the hell I ain’t gonna say that out loud.’_

“Yes.” Arthur nodded his head and before the man could even say anything more, Alfred just let his mouth run loose to ask Arthur why was it a relief that he was back because if the answer was ‘ _because I love you’_ consider him laid for tonight.

“So, were you like, waiting for me or something?” 

_‘Crap that came out like an asshole didn’t it?’_  

Alfred tucked his hands inside his pockets, looking even smugger that he intended. Arthur blinked, somewhat surprised at the sudden arrogance and Alfred had an inkling of how he just fucked up another opportunity at redeeming himself from the land of worst first impressions. 

But then Arthur laughed, surprising Alfred this time and suddenly there was a single ray of hope shining over Alfred’s tarnished image. 

“Actually, I have your wallet.” Arthur said, and true enough, resting on his palm was a familiar brown leather wallet that Alfred bought three months ago. 

“Oh.” 

_Oh._

_Well._

Arthur raised a brow, a subtle smugness in his features, and Alfred stared at his wallet with pursed lips and murdered confidence.

_Well this is embarrassing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola. Been busy. I'm sorry. Will update asap (lol I always say that but I really mean it though sorry D:)


	6. Chapter 6

The truth was, Arthur did notice the weird guy sitting on the table across him. He just did not pay enough attention to realize that the weird guy was someone he knew. For all the annoying people he had met, Arthur long had mastered the art of ignoring weird guys like the man who for some reason had a fascination with the smell of newspaper (because as far as Arthur was concerned, there was no other reason to be breathing hard with your nose practically glued to something unless for the purpose of smelling it).

In short, Arthur’s morning was peaceful. Calm. Almost perfect if it were not for the annoying group of teens rallying outside about god knows what. But he tuned them out as well, focusing on his own little world with an okay cup of tea. He ignored the grunting from the table across, which again came from the weird man with the tabloid, and he ignored the shop’s staff that kept bumping into his chair every single damn time he passed by Arthur. He also did not mind much when his glasses would fog up whenever he would gently blow on his drink, creating tiny ripples across its surface. 

But if there was one thing that was hard to ignore, it was the finger that tapped on his shoulder with vigor Arthur’s bones could feel the weight of the touch. The persistence made it seem like Arthur had been ignoring this person for months. 

With a practiced smile and ease, he turned around and politely asked, “Is there anything I can help you with?” And this person who he then found was a girl, handed him a brown leather wallet that was clearly not his.

So of course Arthur said “That’s not mine, but the girl just shrugged and placed the wallet on his table before walking away and it became clear to him that that bitch just wanted to pass on the burden. Arthur was tempted to throw the wallet on her head but she was out the coffee shop before he could even bring his knees to work and pull him off his chair. 

He decided, after much contemplation, that chasing her was not worth it. Arthur did not touch the wallet until the last drop of his drink dripped on his tongue. For the whole while, he debated whether he should even bother inspecting the wallet or if he should just leave it there for the staff to find. Besides, he did not have an obligation to return a lost item to the idiot who actually lost it. It was not his fault that whoever it is was an idiot. He did not have an obligation to idiots. Period.

But alas Arthur was just human and as a human he could not help but be curious. It was just a matter of giving into this curiosity or not. Arthur was not usually a prying person, and he was not also really a questioning one. Oh my god he was not a child anymore. The world was duller and less entertaining and less interesting that there was just nothing that could even surprise Arthur anymore and this leather brown wallet was not going to be a fabulous exception— okay what the fuck to hell with everything Arthur was going to open the wallet and search for IDs and identify the idiot owner like the good damn person he really was.

“Bloody fuck it.” 

He reached towards it and as soon as his fingers encased the wallet Arthur noted that it was thin, and he guessed that it only carried four kinds of things: one or two credit or debit cards, a few bills probably a twenty or a fifty, a business card with the owner’s details, and a condom. 

Arthur was not really surprised to know that he guessed right. He felt pride swell within him but instantly let it go in favor of reading the name on the glossy business card. 

“Fine paper.” He mumbled as he held it up. The light reflected on the material and made the details unreadable so Arthur held it back down. Then he read softly to himself the name that was embedded on the card. 

‘Alfred F. Jones’ 

And Arthur immediately thought, _‘What a dumb name.’_ So cliché. So common. Sounded so typical. Arthur could already picture this Alfred F. Jones to be your basic bitch in the neighborhood. Arthur could already imagine this Alfred F. Jones to be so boring. Someone who probably was a jock all throughout his school days, basked in popularity, dated the lead cheerleader, slept with busty professors, only to become a boring businessman after college, watching porn in the office with his mates when his boss was not within a five feet radius. 

Arthur snorted and continued to stare at the card, read the details the followed below the name and he confirmed that he got the businessman-part right after seeing that Alfred F. Jones worked under a distinguished company. His position indicated in smaller letters right under his name. 

Oh, Arthur was really good at this guessing game so he continued. He was bored as fuck anyway. 

So, this Alfred Jones, Arthur imagined, would have blond hair. Always combed but still kind of messy. Judging by the unused condom in his wallet, Alfred Jones was a bachelor, unless he had a wife and he was a cheating son of a bitch. But back to the physical appearance, Arthur would have to say that this Alfred Jones would have a muscular build. Tall. Skin would be evenly tanned save for the briefs area. He was willing to bet a million dollars that Alfred Jones had a gym membership despite having his own barbell at home, because Alfred needed the treadmill. 

To complete the typical, basic boy look, Alfred would have bright blue eyes, a charming megawatt smile that could make women reach orgasm. A total ladies man and a total jerk. 

Arthur had no idea he got the last part wrong until he tried to put back the business card from where he pulled it out and it refused to go all the way through. Something was blocking at, and the clever man with a common sense that he was, he tried to check what the hell it was. Arthur dared another guess, and he supposed to find a crumpled receipt that most likely had been shoved inside. But instead, when he reached his two fingers in and pulled it out, he saw a photo. 

A one inch by one inch photo of a man with blond hair, blue eyes, and a charming megawatt smile that could make women reach orgasm. 

A one inch by one inch photo of the wallet’s owner. 

A one inch by one inch photo of Alfred F. Jones. The businessman with the dark blue tie and untucked white shirt. The bespectacled blond who was only familiar to Arthur because he frequented the café Arthur worked at, and now Arthur was undecided whether to laugh at himself or curse at himself for even thinking about being a good man and return the wallet to this idiot. 

Arthur did not know what exactly he should feel, but if anything, he was sure he did not feel tragically dreadful about it. Kind of surprised, yes, but Alfred Jones really had not done anything to make Arthur loathe him to hell’s end, to the point where he would burn the wallet to ashes after a brief flashback of their last encounter. He did not even remember the lad’s name until now (oh come on it was such a _unique name yes that was sarcasm right there)._  

It was embarrassing, but only slightly. With everything that he had done in his life, making a stranger aware of his wet crotch was not scarring at all. What bothered him was the huge, huge possibility, the ninety-nine percent chance that Alfred did recognize him, did remember his face, did know that Arthur was in fact an actor and that he was not just any other actor. He was a pornstar.

It was _hopefully_ their _first and last encounter._ With Alfred Jones’ wallet in his hand, that would no longer be the case. 

Well there was always the option of passing the good citizen’s obligation of returning the item to other people, just as what the bitch who found it did when she gave it to Arthur. 

“Oh bugger.” He muttered under his breath as he carefully placed the card back in the wallet but he held the picture out for a while longer until he found himself smiling after remembering Alfred’s flushed face. Now _that_ was definitely not the kind of look that a ladies man usually wore, but Arthur had to admit that he did find the reaction cute. 

Putting the photo back together with the card, tucking it inside, Arthur concluded that Alfred Jones was not so bad a face. But he had seen better, had fucked better probably. That charming smile was not enough to convince him to personally return the wallet. 

Glancing outside the glass wall, Arthur spotted a policeman standing by the unlit lamppost with a finger shoved up his nose. He cringed, almost changed his mind, but he really did not need to touch the man in anyway. Just hand the wallet over and then turn around, proceed with his day. 

Arthur stood up, the back of his knees pushing his seat away but he was careful not to create an annoying dragging noise with his movements. With his head turned and eyes focused on his empty paper cup, Arthur missed the cab that had just stopped in front of Starbucks. Feeling a bit thirsty still, he decided to ask for water by the counter and missed one of the cab’s passenger taking wary glances at his surroundings before finally possessing the courage to walk and enter the place, just in time when Arthur was done and was on his way out of it. 

The door was opened before he could reach the handle, and for the second time that morning (not half a day had passed by yet could you believe it?) Arthur found himself surprised yet again as the idiot owner of the wallet, the man named Alfred F. Jones, showed up, looking more shocked than Arthur currently was. 

It did not seem like Alfred was going to say anything, despite his chapped lips parting and closing he would certainly qualify to be one of the fishes in a tank. Arthur adjusted his glasses atop the bridge of his nose, and let himself respond naturally. 

“Oh. You came back.” 

“I-I came back?” Alfred asked, looking confused and sounding unsure.

The American’s cheeks now were peppered with pink but it can easily be overlooked if one was not observant. Unfortunately for Alfred, Arthur had a bit of Sherlock’s blood and he had a scarily accurate hunch as to what was going on in Alfred’s head right after noticing Alfred’s clothes and realizing that _Alfred was the fucking weird man with the bloody fucking tabloid sitting across me._  

“Yes. That’s a relief.”

Arthur smiled and thought, _‘he looks hopeful. His eyes are too bright they’re so easy to read. I can see right through him, and he’s thinking along the lines of Arthur-had-noticed-me-all-this-time!’_

The corner of his lips tugged down to a small frown. His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head a bit to the side, hunched his shoulder a little to make himself look smaller. He really did not plan on teasing, but Arthur, once again, let himself respond _naturally._

“I’m sorry,” Arthur blinked then peered up at Alfred through his lashes. The perfect shy look. “I don’t suppose you remember me?”

“No!” The answer was immediate and little loud than what Arthur expected. Alfred seemed to have realized what he had just done. The flustered American cleared his throat and pretended to cough before speaking again. Embarrassing. Reaallly embarrassing but Arthur could say it was funny. “I mean, um, I remember you. You’re uh, you’re from that café, right? Yeah?” 

“Yes.” He nodded his head, small humble smile back in place. He could see Alfred’s fingers curling. He could see the corner of Alfred’s lips twitch. And Arthur could tell, with the sudden change in Alfred’s demeanor, that his assumptions to Arthur’s cause of relief were fueling his confidence.

The sudden switch in character was amazing. 

Arthur was not disappointed with Alfred’s next words. 

“So, were you like, waiting for me or something?” 

_Bloody smug bastard._  

It was funnier than how Arthur imagined it would be. 

_Pfft._

Oh god blimey. His lips parted and he could not hold back the laugh that escaped right out. Alfred’s eyes widened and panic was clearly written on his face. 

“Actually, I have your wallet.” He declared, holding the wallet up. Arthur’s voice was soft, but he held his grin in place and he looked at Alfred straight in the eyes. He took advantage of the look that his red glasses gave him. Arthur knew he looked like a smart-ass, not that he was not because he was indeed, a smart-ass. 

He remained silent, patiently waiting for Alfred to realize that he had just embarrassed himself in front of Arthur for the second time. 

“Oh.” Alfred said, blinking. His face now completely red as he stared at his wallet. Arthur grinned victoriously and that would have been the end of it, but after seeing the look on Alfred’s face, the composure that crumbled right under his feet, there was no way Arthur was going to stop yet. 

Did you really think that after seeing a hunk of a man flush tomato red, Arthur was just going to let it go? 

“I saw it under my chair. Must have tumbled somehow.” Arthur shrugged and Alfred nodded his head dumbly. A soft, unsure ‘yeah’ came out from his mouth as he took his wallet from Arthur’s hand slowly, careful not to have skin to skin contact. Arthur, despite the lingering paranoia at the back of his mind, was enjoying every moment of it. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Funny though, I’ve been here for a while and I didn’t even notice you.” Arthur said and Alfred visibly stilled. His blue eyes quickly shot past Arthur, avoiding the Brit’s gaze as he adjusted his glasses on his face. A nervous trait. 

“Oh! Haha! Y-yeah lol that’s funny. I was here too, you know. I mean, pfft duh I was here.” Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. “And you’re here! I didn’t uh, notice you either. That’s funny.” 

_‘Liar.’_ Arthur thought. ‘ _You were hiding behind paper.’_ He would not dare say it out loud.

When another customer went in, the small chiming of the bell Arthur considered his cue to leave before anything became too awkward for him to handle. He had his little bit of fun anyway, and he still had things to do like cuddling his cat in bed while trying to finish one of ten of his still unread books. 

“I have to go.” Arthur smiled and nodded towards the door. “Be careful of your things next time.” He said simply, intentionally leaving out the polite ‘see you around’ which other people normally would say. Because as enjoyable as it was to see Alfred Jones’ embarrassed face, he had no desire to actually ‘see him around.’ 

He side-stepped, went past Alfred fluidly, and he was relieved that he made it past the door without being held back. Alfred seemed like he was still going to say something and Arthur was just thankful that his sudden exit was surprising enough for Alfred to turn into a bubble head, nodding and opening his mouth but failing to produce coherent words.

The cold air blew on his hair, messing it even further, and Arthur pulled a maroon beanie out of his bag, pulling until it also covered his ears. They did not really appreciate the cold the much. As he turned on his heel, he heard someone shout “ _Why the fuck is he taking so long_!?” but he paid no attention to it. 

He turned the corner, completely missing Alfred Jones as the man hurriedly went outside in an attempt to find him, but he was already gone from sight. 

Arthur’s morning quickly went back to being peaceful, calm. Almost perfect if it were not for the echoing voice of a man who yelled, “ _Get in here, fucker! My ass is cold!”_

* * *

Come tomorrow and Alfred still had not gotten over his meeting with Arthur.

Well it was just the day after. Not a lot of time had passed. Not enough time had passed. Alfred needed like, maybe a month or so before he could at least get their chance encounter off his head and stop himself from grinning like a sickening love struck fool Gilbert never expected him to be. Because Alfred was a man of action, like he always told himself to be, and it was so unlike him to let a week pass without boning someone all because he allowed himself to be so preoccupied by a person that he, by his ideals, should already have fucked and got over with. 

Instead, he had a shit-eating grin on his face, perfect white teeth displayed for the world to see. There were crinkles around his eyes and a drool threatened to drip down the corner of his lips as he scanned and photocopied a gigantic pile of papers. Honestly, it was not his job. Photocopying files for the whole office was not in his job description. Alfred did not have any idea how he ended up being the Good Samaritan. 

He just stood by the machine with five papers in his hands. He should already have been through in less than a minute or two but in the span of thirty seconds he drifted off towards the land of flashbacks, an inner theater, a world of his own with Arthur as his guest. Then there was someone behind him, telling him to hurry the fuck up it was just five goddamn papers. He turned around and it was Roderich, the not-so-closeted gay of rainbow town whenever he was drunk, and Alfred scared him off with the grin he now had been wearing for the past fifteen minutes. 

Roderich ended up shoving his files to Alfred’s face, and Alfred mindlessly took them and began working. A minute later and the rest of the office began to take advantage of him, not that he cared. No one really cared except for his good friend Gilbert. 

“Oi Alfred! It’s lunchtime!” Gilbert’s voice thundered all the way from the entrance when he saw Alfred manning the copying machine however Gilbert’s voice fell on deaf ears and the rest of the people only shook their heads with amused smiles on their faces. Confused, he treaded over to where Alfred was and violently shook said blond’s shoulder.

It snapped Alfred out from his thoughts for a second, turning his head to face Gilbert and Gilbert’s face contorted into a disgusted look upon seeing Alfred’s outstretched lips. It did not help that Alfred’s way of speaking sounded so… breathy? Virginal? Like mother nature’s moan in the wind?

“Oh hey Gil. Beautiful morning ain’t it? What can I do for you today?”

 So polite. So, so polite. This was not Alfred. 

“Okay?” Gilbert backed a step and held his arms up defensively. “Ew?”

And when Alfred continued to victimize himself in his dreamy, lovey dovey daze, Gilbert decided to just… just slap Alfred in the face. 

“I’m sorry, pal, but I gotta do what I gotta do.” 

That was the only warning Alfred got (and he did not even try to understand it) before Gilbert’s palm painfully kissed his left cheek in one swift motion it made his eyes grow wide as his neck twisted after impact. 

While everything seemed to stop for Alfred as he looked at Gilbert with disbelief, betrayal welled in his eyes, the whole office simply went on about their own business. It was just a normal occurrence after all.

“Dude.” Alfred muttered as he took a step back, Gilbert taking a reproachful step forward towards him. His one hand cradled his reddening cheek. Taking another step back he shook his head, looking at Gilbert with disappointment then. “Bro.”

“I told you Al, I gotta do what I—”

“You gotta slap me!? That’s your mission? To slap me?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” 

“Fuck you!” 

“Okay fine you can slap me back.” Gilbert offered his cheek and leaned forward, arms spread open in a welcoming gesture for Alfred to slap him in the face. 

“What?”

“Come on, bro. Slap me. Slap me hard.” Alfred’s face contorted to a look of disgust. 

“Gil—”

“Slap me, Al. I know you want to. Come on and slap me like a man.”

The more Gilbert tried to encourage Alfred, with his voice raising and sounding more aggressive, the more Alfred freaked out. Gilbert’s eyes were closed as he waited for the resounding slap that will never come because as his continued to yell, ignoring Alfred’s refusal to _‘indulge him in his S and M tendencies’_ because “ _no Gilbert I never saw you that way I would like us to remain friends we are bros for life and nothing more for the love of Jesus Christ.”_  

“Oh will you look at the time it’s lunch!” Alfred exclaimed and even pretended to look at his wristwatch but his words fell on deaf ears as Gilbert continued to brace himself for the slap. “Let’s go eat, Gil! Wanna grab those bacon fries down the street?”

“Slap me, Alfred F. Jones.”

“So that’s a no? Okay cool. Bye.”

Alfred fled the office in no time, leaving Gilbert chanting alone until Roderich passed by and slapped him in the face.

Meanwhile, Alfred was on his way towards Arthur’s workplace after he found another excuse to go back there, disregarding all convictions he had about never stepping inside that café again. This time, Alfred’s purpose was a noble one, passable, acceptable enough for him to swallow his pride and embarrassment. He touched his pocket, making sure that his wallet was indeed in there. The reason why he was going back was so he could _properly_ thank Arthur for returning his wallet. Again, _properly._ No awkward boners, no stutters, no unwanted remarks. Nothing. Just go there and _properly_ express his gratitude, and maybe give Arthur a reward like a very big tip or _mind blowing sex—_

A very big tip. Alfred settled for a very big tip. 

The walk did not take that long with Alfred’s brisk steps. It was as if his feet were racing with the gears of his mind. Fifteen minutes later and he found himself standing right outside the glass doors, palms flat against them as he pushed it open. The wind chimes almost startled him when he stepped inside and the girl with the big boobs, Katy her name was as Alfred recalled (woah like Alfred actually remembered someone else other than Arthur) spun around and seemed delightful to see him. There was recognition on her face. 

Meanwhile, as he not so subtly tried to look around, Arthur was nowhere to be found. 

“Good Afternoon!” She greeted as he approached the counter, eyes wandering all over area and never meeting hers as he recited an order— simple black coffee and a clubhouse sandwich— which she enthusiastically punched over the register. He paid in cash the exact amount, took the receipt and gave Katy a polite nod before hurrying over to his usual, thankfully unoccupied seat by the window and conveniently near the staff room 

There weren’t so many people, and perhaps that was why most of the staff was not present. So far with his little observations he only had seen two unfamiliar servers wiping the tables and delivering orders. The place almost succumbed to complete silence if it were not for the soft piano music and the clinking of teaspoons against coffee mugs and teacups, of forks on plates as they slid down smoothly through soft cheesecakes and crepes. Then there were the wind chimes every time someone would go in or out. But the place was hardly packed and yeah, about two or three people would do. Unfortunately, Arthur was not one of them.

Yet. 

Alfred was sure that Arthur was going to show up anytime soon. 

Maybe Arthur would be the one to bring his orders like those other times. 

He crossed his fingers and silently prayed. 

Not long after he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and he perked up, head turning and body twisting a bit so he could see, finally find out if he had behaved enough in the last week for the Lord to actually answer his prayers and grant him the pleasure of receiving his orders from Arthur. But upon seeing a scowling face, hardened wide eyes beneath deep brown hair, Alfred concluded that no, he had sinned enough the past week. No Arthur bringing orders for him. Instead, he got the grumpy brunet from last time. 

Lovino looked terribly disappointed upon seeing Alfred and Alfred could very much say that the feeling was mutual. 

Nonetheless, he took his orders with a smile on his face even if it was not returned. 

“Your sandwich will arrive in a minute.” Lovino said hurriedly and was already walking away before he could even finish his sentence, leaving Alfred wondering what in hell did he do this time. Was last time’s encounter too embarrassingly memorable? 

_Wait. He didn’t see my boner did he?_

Alfred breathed in and after a bit of contemplation, he shrugged his shoulders. 

_Nah I don’t think so._

He waited for his sandwich patiently. 

A minute after and he could hear loud, whispering voices that obviously were killing the purpose of their whispering. Curious as he had always been, Alfred turned his head towards the source of the voices and found half a human’s body sticking out and being squished from the door that led towards the kitchen. Further observation and Alfred found out that whoever it was (and damn whoever it was was sexy _af_ ) was being pushed out forcedly. 

The whispering got louder that it became clear there was a mini quarrel going on in between the two staff. So far, Alfred was the only near enough person who could hear them. 

_‘I’m not going! It’s your damn job!’_

_‘It’s your damn job too, bastardo!’_

_‘I’m on my break! It’s your shift for christ’s sake let me in!’_

Not long after, the unknown person inside the room found success in driving his coworker out with a kick to the shin and a rather loud ‘ _just get the fuck out mio dio!’_ , causing the victim’s whole body to reveal itself fully from the gap where he forced himself to squeeze past. Alfred recognized the voice and knew it was Lovino. As for the poor driven out waiter, there was the look of betrayal following the gasp brought by the pain of being kicked, and the waiter would have cradled the aching part if it were not for the plate he was holding.

The plate where Alfred’s sandwich lay at rest. But that was not the important part, because the person carrying the plate was none other than Arthur K. who, as it was worth mentioning, looked disgruntled as if he was woken up from a peaceful hour of sleep. 

His shirt was untucked and had wrinkles on its sleeves. The waist-hugging apron that exposed Arthur’s curves was nowhere to be found. Arthur’s forehead had this huge, fading red mark that can be acquired by sleeping on the desk over your folded arms. 

Slowly turning around, Arthur finally caught Alfred looking up at him with confusion and surprise, then with a bit of panic when Alfred realized that he was staring like a dumb fuck. _Whelp_. That did not stop him from continuing to stare anyway. It brought him consolation that Arthur flushed red upon the sight of him. For once, Alfred was on the less shameful end and it felt nice and he was going to abuse the moment. 

“Err, I…” Arthur scratched his cheek and quickly averted his eyes. Alfred allowed himself to smile and that seemed to snap Arthur out of his own surprised daze.

With a last death-promising glare at the door, Arthur resigned himself to his fate with a sigh before he slowly ventured towards Alfred’s table.

“I am sorry that you had to see that.” Arthur said as he carefully placed the plate beside Alfred’s mug. He released another puff of breath. “My friend—Lovino’s his name—has some important matters to attend to so…” 

“It’s okay.” Alfred assured before taking a sip from his mug just so he could hide the pleased smile on his face that threatened to grow too wide for comfort because _fuck him it was definitely okay like damn so fine the odds are-in-my-favor kind of okay thank the good Lord._

He settled his coffee down and peered up to look at Arthur, thinking about how he was going to say what he really meant to say, what he had been practicing ever since he got home yesterday. Arthur opened his mouth, probably about to excuse himself and go back and kick his coworker’s ass, and Alfred panicked enough that he beat him to speaking. 

“Actually, I came here to see you.” Alfred met Arthur’s eyes, jaw clenching as he tried to read through the seemingly emotionless stare that Arthur sent him. He was just glad to see the waiter’s thick brows scrunch in the middle because that was the only sign Alfred got to know that Arthur was at least interested to know more. Alfred rubbed his sweaty palms on thighs; a nervous trait. 

“See me?” 

“It’s um, about yesterday.” 

Arthur blinked, spacing out for some few seconds before his face lit up, remembering what Alfred was talking about. The delay was saddening, because it only meant that Arthur forgot about it, it was like oh picking up Alfred’s wallet and meeting him in Starbucks was nothing out of the ordinary it was not really worth remembering. Nonetheless, Alfred professionally hid his emotions behind an “I’m cool” façade. 

“So what about yesterday?”

Alfred’s eyes twitched.

_Crap he really did not commit it to memory am I not memorable enough?_

“I just, wanted to thank you properly.” 

“Oh. Oh, you don’t have too. It is perfectly fine.” 

“But dude, you don’t understand.” Arthur raised a brow and Alfred stilled. 

_Fuck I sound so desperate I’m a fucking slut._

“You see, this wallet,” Alfred pulled the leather out of his pocket. “is important.”

“Er, I see that.” 

_No shit Jones. No shit it’s important what the fucking—_

“And you see, _you_ returned it to me so I thought I gotta, you know, give you like a reward for being a good…” _Boy. For being such a good boy a damn good boy you’re such a good boy so so good that you… returned my wallet fuck what the hell am I thinking—_ “”…citizen. A reward for being a good citizen, person, guy, you get the gist.”

Alfred flashed his megawatt smile, not really hoping that it would blind Arthur _but god please let it blind Arthur and distract him from the awful hot mess t_ hat is me. 

Arthur was biting his lip and Alfred was sure that he was being judged. He felt so exposed all of a sudden, like all of his life secrets had been brought out and presented to an imaginary jury of judgmental people. The silence between them continued to stretch, and Alfred could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead and at the back of his neck, which by the way was beginning to ache because he it craned up so he could look at Arthur properly. 

“Sir, I do not really think that the reward is necessary. I only did what I had to do.” 

Alfred’s shoulders fell, he pursed his lips and wet them with his tongue before remembering not to show any signs of disappointment, not to show that he was really looking forward to it all and everything was already planned like damn it he even rehearsed his lines in his head. With the forced smile, he nodded in understanding (if you listened very, very carefully you would hear the sound of a shattering heart).

Of course Arthur would reject. Who was he anyway? He was just a creepy little shit who formed a crush on his favorite pornstar-look-alike. Not to mention he embarrassed himself in front of Arthur twice, and the fact that that Lovino dude refused to bring him his sandwich. 

Really, Alfred? 

_Really?_

“But if you want, we can have lunch together?”

_Really?_

“Really!?“ 

_Say what now?_

Alfred perked up and looked at Arthur, who was now smiling back at him with what he could only assume as amusement. It was definitely a smile hiding behind Arthur’s pursed lips, because there were little wrinkles around his pretty green eyes that shone with mirth by the way. 

His excitement shot energy down his legs, making him stand up. The table shook, his chair moved an inch, and the coffee spilled a few drops, but those were just details he did not care about. 

“T-that’s great! That’s really g-great!”

Alfred could feel his heart beating loudly in his chest, and he could feel his bruised ego being patched up, and he could feel his confidence sprouting from the grave. 

Arthur brought out a pen from his pocket and took one of the provided tissues that came along with Alfred’s sandwich. He scribbled, using his palm in place of a proper table to write on, and then handed it after to Alfred who, of course, was overjoyed because fuck, _fuck_ him it was a number and it was Arthur’s number and just... fuck him. 

“Tomorrow’s my day off. You can ring me anytime.” 

“Y-yeah! I will. Thanks.” 

Arthur just smiled again before turning around, not even bothering to excuse himself and Alfred could only watch the Englishman walk away, watch as those sexy hips disappeared behind the door with a vengeful slam that was not, thank god, because of him. 

He plopped down on his seat, the grin shining full on his face now there was no reason to hide it, no reason to act so cool. Alfred picked his mug up and drank his coffee, forgetting to blow over the surface so it stung his tongue but the pain was not going to ruin his day. _Nothing_ was going to ruin his day. He did not notice Katy the cashier girl watching him with a knowing look. 

Alfred was just so happy he could slap Gilbert in the face.

* * *

“So I force you out to deal with the creepy bastard and you come back here with a _date._ ”

“Are you sure you have the right to show me that kind of attitude you little shit?”

“I thought you were also creeped out! You said it yourself!”

“Are you ignoring me? And need I remind you that _you_ _kicked me and pushed me out the door!_ ”

“That’s for you to give the sandwich and not go and flirt and get a date with a creepy guy! I thought you said—” 

“He ‘s hot! Lovino! He’s hot and he’s cute for crying out loud! There! I said it! He’s hot and he’s cute god damn it!” 

“…” 

“Underneath all that- that… shit, he’s pretty decent, okay?” 

“…” 

“It’s not even a date. I-it’s just lunch.” 

“…” 

“Don’t fucking give me that look.”

“But this is my judging look and I’m judging you.” 

“It’s simply a thank-you-oh-you’re-welcome lunch. It’s just a one time thing.”

“Still judging you though.” 

“Bloody fuck you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meeeeeh


	7. Chapter 7

The thing was, Alfred was not really a ‘lunch date’ kind of person. He was not even a ‘date’ person, or it would be better to say he was not the type to go on dates that would eventually lead to anything but sex. 

But there was a first time for everything, and even if he had absolutely no idea how he should act during the whole time he and Arthur would be together (and that came with the risk of digging a deeper hole to bury his dignity beyond redemption), Alfred was more than willing to push through with the lunch date. 

It was nine in the morning and he was sitting on his swiveling chair, ignoring his shit ton of work. His thumb hovered over the screen of his phone and the call option was simply lying in wait to be pressed. Alfred still cannot believe that he had acquired them, and that came with the unimaginable fact that Arthur gave his number willingly. Well he was not sure if Arthur was into guys but if that did not scream ‘gay’ please fuck Alfred in the ass right now because he would need a lot of gay fucking to recuperate.

His thumb touched the screen. Arthur’s phone was ringing. He was finally making contact. 

It was amazing how a million devastating, hope shattering thoughts about the one hundred and one ways things could go wrong managed to invade his mind in just a few seconds, and he was so fucking close to putting the phone down right before a voice answered on the other end of the line. 

“ _Hello?_ ” 

It was Arthur’s voice.

“Hey! It’s me, Alfred.”

It was Arthur’s voice and _damn Jones now’s not that time to get turned on._

“ _Oh,_ ” There was recognition and what Alfred would assume to be delight in Arthur’s tone. He took it a good sign. “ _Good morning Alfred._ ”

If it were an SMS Alfred was sure there would be a smiling emoticon placed at the end of Arthur’s text. He pursed his lips and took a deep breath in, free hand curling against his armrest as his feet sent his wheel-y chair spinning. It took every bit of his will power and energy divergence to not let out a girly squeal. 

“Yeah. Good morning, uh, bro—“ _Bro?_ “ I mean, Arthur. Arthur. I hope I didn’t disturb or anything.” He followed with light laughter to make himself sound _normal_ at the very least.

“ _Oh no, no. I actually just got out of bed._ ” Another lewd image of Arthur with red hair popped in Alfred’s mind and he had to bury it quickly away… to be used later at night in the privacy of his room maybe. “ _And don’t worry, you did not wake me up._ ”

“That’s good. Coz like, I’d hate to bother you or wake you or something, you know.” Ugh, he was dragging things. Alfred cleared his throat, because clearing your throat was like a universal reset. He better get straight to the point before Arthur could suspect him of being a boring person who had no friends to talk to. “Anyway, so I called about later—” 

“Jones!” There was a frantic knocking against the sensitive walls of his cubicle and Alfred bit back a curse. It sounded like Mathias, and he really did not have time for Mathias so he tried his best to ignore it. His attention still somewhat fixed on the call.

“About later,” He repeated and Arthur hummed, a clear indication that Alfred was being taken seriously and the lunch was absolutely a go and not forgotten. “is, uh, is twelve-thirty okay?” 

“Joooones.” Mathias continued to knock and Alfred, without turning to face his workmate, waved him off with his hand. As if that was enough. “Jooooones.” 

“ _Yes, sure. Where should I meet you?_ ” 

“Alfred. Alfred.” A vein was really going to pop in his head if Matthias refused to stop. He leered over his shoulder and mouthed the words ‘go away’ with exaggerated mouth stretches but Mathias was just really happy that Alfred was looking at him right now.

“Cool, so, do you have a minute?”

“Do I look like I have a _fucking minute!?_ ”Alfred hissed before turning back to his phone to answer Arthur’s question. Whatever aggression he had against Mathias temporarily had vanished. “Actually, I was gonna ask you that too. Well, not that I don’t have a plan it’s just, I don’t wanna inconvenience you or like, yeah.” 

The knocking was grating in his ears.

“ _You don’t really have to worry about that._ ” 

“But—” 

“Just _who_ are you talking to?” Mathias suddenly popped beside Alfred with his ear pressed against the other side of Alfred’s phone, and of course Alfred’s first instinct was to push Mathias’ face as far as his arm stretched.

“Dude,” Alfred leaned away, palms protectively around his phone again. “what the hell are you doing? Fuck off!” 

“I’m sorry man,” But Mathias did not look apologetic at all. “I just need some help with— you’re not listening.”

Alfred was back to talking with Arthur again with the nonchalant tone of his as if Mathias never existed. 

“— _really wouldn’t mind if you decide._ ” 

“Oh, so… then uh,” He tried to think of something, and friendly reminder to himself that he never really went out on lunch dates before, if he could even call his meeting with Arthur a date and not just a friendly I-owe-you lunch, so nothing decent came to mind except a few cheap fastfood havens he frequented and those just cannot do and _Mathias cannot seem to understand that he was in the middle of a fucking important call_ — 

“Dude what the hell?” Alfred grimaced when Mathias tried to listen to the call again by sticking his ear on the other side of Alfred’s phone. 

“Chill. I’m just curious.” The other reasoned and it was not good enough for Alfred, really. 

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Hey! Um, I’m sorry I spaced out for a second there.” He raised his middle finger proudly at Mathias before turning his back against him. “I have a few places in mind actually and I’ll just uh, see. But anyway, twelve-thirty?” 

“ _Yes._ ” 

“Good! Okay. Well I-I gotta go now but I’ll call you again!” Alfred scratched his forehead. “I mean, to of course, you know, just in case something came up or…” 

“ _I’ll be waiting then._ ” Arthur’s voice went a little whisper-y when he said that and Alfred almost tried to think of reasons why they should talk a bit more. “ _See you later.”_

“Y-yeah! See you later!” 

The call ended right after. Alfred had never felt so dreadful to hear the consecutive beeps that took over instantly and he let his phone linger on his ear for a second more just in case Arthur’s voice magically resonated again. 

Unfortunately, it was Mathias who he heard call his name and Alfred remembered the source of his unnecessary stress. 

“Hey dude,” Mathias grinned mischievously. “So you got a date?” 

Alfred hit him with a bunch of papers.

* * *

 

Arthur stared at his phone for a few seconds longer after the call ended, until the light of his phone died. With his thick eyebrows furrowed he placed the device down beside his half-full cup of tea that Lovino prepared for him. Said guy looked at his reaction amusedly.

The call had been weird, or rather Alfred sounded a little weird towards the end of their conversation. But then again, when did he ever catch Alfred being _not_ weird. 

“How’d it go?”

“He sounded distracted. But he said he’ll call again.” Arthur shrugged, not really bothered. Lovino hummed in return before sipping from his own cup.

“So it’s a date?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Okay.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Get out of my apartment.” He said with no real bite and Lovino raised a brow at him. 

“But you called me here.” Lovino protested, hiding his grin behind his cup. “Because you burnt your toast.” 

“I didn’t. The toaster malfunctioned.” Arthur countered and Lovino shrugged his shoulders.

“Okay.”

Arthur kicked Lovino’s knee from under the table.

* * *

Hours later and word travelled fast. Least to say, Gilbert looked horrified at the news, if one could even call it news. Most of the staff didn’t really care if Alfred got a date or not for lunch. It was mostly just Gilbert. 

The ever melodramatic Gilbert.

Antonio was not helping at all, just smiling and patting Alfred on the shoulder and telling him, with that singsong tone, “You should’ve just told Gilbert in the first place, _amigo._ ”

And Alfred wanted to shrug Antonio off because he really must be leaving now. The least Antonio could do was to stop Gilbert from slinking around his legs like a goddamn child on a tantrum. _Don’t just ‘amigo’ me! Get Gilbert off!_

It was all Mathias’ fault. Everything was going smoothly. The excuse he told Gilbert about meeting someone for business over lunch was doing great for Alfred, until Mathias butted in and _lied_ about the things he _heard_ when in fact he fucking heard nothing.

“Since _when_ do you do lunch dates?!” Gilbert wailed, shaking Alfred’s brains out by the shoulders. “What about our bro code?”

“You’ve got Tony with you! And Liz! Kiku!” Alfred reasoned but Gilbert only continued to recite ‘ _bros before hoes’_ over and over again as if it was going to change Alfred’s mind. He really didn’t get what the fuss was all about when it was not the first time he was not going to eat lunch with them. What the hell he was mostly out on his own the week before, eating lunch by himself just to enjoy a certain waiter’s ass. Why, of all the days, did Gilbert decide to— _uugh._ It wasn’t as if Gilbert didn’t bail out on them before as well! 

“But never for a date!” Gilbert exclaimed like he heard Alfred’s thoughts, and certainly did send in the creeps. Nevertheless, Alfred tried to move at least another feet from where Gilbert had him cornered. “”

“Right, because last week with Max was totally not a date.”

“Yep!”

“And Nicole.” 

“Not a date!” 

“And Ralph.” 

“It wasn’t a date!” Gilbert shook his head then mumbled, “We just had sex and yes, I topped.” 

Alfred gave his friend an accusatory look that clearly sent the message: _I didn’t ask_ _you goddamn fucking hypocrite!_ He felt his phone vibrate and whether it was Arthur or not, he knew he had to go otherwise he was going to be late. 

“Nooo! Tony! Al’s leaving!” Gilbert pulled on Antonio’s arm, interrupting his small talk with the girl by the printers, which could have easily be taken as flirting but they all knew by now that Antonio was just too friendly. “Oi! Al’s leaving!” 

“What?” Antonio tore his attention away from the woman and waved at Alfred’s retreating figure, not clearly understanding what Gilbert wanted him to do. “Oh! Have fun, Alfred!”

“Yeah, thanks!” He answered, grinning over his shoulder and wishing that Antonio’s words would pose as a good luck charm. Having won over his argument with Gilbert, his friend fortunately didn’t stubbornly follow him out the office. 

Alfred checked his watch. He still had a good fifteen minutes left before their set meeting time and he wanted to arrive before Arthur did. After all, this whole thing was about him redeeming himself, rising from the ashes of shame, and he would start by showing early. 

For those who knew Alfred well, that was some A+ effort right there because Alfred was never really early for anything.

Like, he’d be dead and he’d still be late for his own fucking funeral. 

Alfred dashed out the building and down the street. Their meeting place was not at all far from his workplace, he made sure of that, and he realized after checking the remaining minutes before their set time, that brisk walking to the brink of sprinting was only going to make him sweaty. He did not want to be seen by Arthur sweaty so he slowed down and pulled on his cuffs. Combed through his hair and shook his arms as some form of warm up. 

Some would say, if they were to look at him, that he was nervous. Yes he was. But Alfred was also every bit excited, a giddy feeling waking his nerves and making it a struggle to fight off the grin from his face. It would be damn creep to be grinning alone down the busy streets like some sort of maniac on the loose. For all that excitement Alfred was feeling, he could not quite put into words the reason. 

Maybe because it was his first time doing something as innocent (unless he got sex out of it at the end of the day, which was highly unlikely to be honest) and well, _normal_ as a friendly lunch date (again if he could even call it a date).

Maybe because he had embarrassed himself to this person already for a few times.

Maybe it was the first time that Alfred had pined for someone for _far too long_ , and this someone didn’t even show hints of mutual interest until yesterday.

Maybe because Arthur just really looked like Red Woods and imagine that! It was like he was going on a date with his favorite porn star. 

It was a dream come true, and Alfred’s fists balled by his sides. It would even be better, he supposed, if Arthur really were to be Red Woods in disguise.

Before he could let his imagination run wild, Alfred reached their meeting place— the expanse of cement right outside his favorite comic book store, walked upon by the many city people— the sidewalk, and Arthur was already there _goddamit._ He beat Alfred to it. 

And he looked _damn_ good. 

Any thoughts and doubts and questions Alfred had about Arthur being gay were wiped off the surface of the Earth, because you wouldn’t dress up like _that_ when you were to meet up with a fellow dude unless you were totally gay for that fellow dude. That explained Alfred wearing his favorite, expensive black tie, and that also probably explained why Arthur wore black, skinny jeans and a white, long-sleeved V-neck.

You wouldn’t be exposing your sexy collar bones to a fellow dude unless you were totally gay for a fellow dude, or so Alfred would like to think. 

Not to mention that red-rimmed glasses, the same one that Arthur wore back when he found Alfred’s wallet. Red was a very choosy color and Alfred could name only a few men who could pull the red-glasses look— Red Woods and Arthur K. 

He still hadn’t found out what the K stood for, but he was definitely going to find out about it before their lunch date ended.

“Hey,” Alfred marched up to Arthur, looking and speaking casually as if he had not just been floored seconds ago, and just now when Arthur smiled back at him.

_Daaamn._  

“Hi.” 

“Have you been waiting long?” Alfred asked, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he sheepishly smiled. His other hand waved mindlessly towards the direction of his workplace. “Sorry I’m late. I had to finish up some things in the office.”

“You’re not late. I’m just too early.” Arthur chuckled and tapped on his wristwatch, a simple silver thing. It was true; Alfred was not late at all. There were still a good ten minutes before their arranged meeting time. “And to be honest, I feel like I’m imposing so don’t feel bad.”

“Oh no, I should be saying that to you.” Alfred quickly said, and maybe he sounded a little too defensive so cleared his throat, regaining his casual and cool persona. “I mean, you’re not imposing and I really wanna uh, treat you for returning my wallet, you see. Just like, think of it as clearing my conscience?”

Arthur stared at him like he was contemplating Alfred’s words, with his lips pursed and his head tilted to the side. It took all of Alfred’s willpower to not stare blatantly at those collarbones _god bless them._

Alfred breathed in and he felt his eyes stinging because apparently, he forgot that he had to blink. Arthur finally said okay with a hint of shy laughter in his tone. 

“So, where are we headed?” Arthur asked, meeting Alfred’s eyes and Alfred could clearly see his own dumb reflection and his own dumb face because fuck, _fuck—_

“Well I got a few places in mind…” was what he said but the truth was, he completely forgot.

What an idiot.

* * *

Arthur knew almost immediately that Alfred had no idea, no damn idea at all, where to take him for lunch.

That was okay. It eased him a little to think that Alfred was not as obsessed and star-struck about him like Lovino insisted. The man forgot to think about a place to eat, and that surely meant that Alfred was not really thinking so much on impressing Arthur.

But he had to admit it was a little disappointing because it was lunchtime and he was starving.

He walked beside Alfred, their feet in perfect rhythm as they slipped into conversation with surprising ease. They talked about Alfred’s work for a bit, the reason why he got delayed. Alfred told him that the printers suddenly malfunctioned and that maintenance couldn’t get to right away so he was forced to play hero. Arthur couldn’t really say he was impressed but whatever. 

But in the very least, Alfred was doing a good job so far with his attempt to make Arthur see him in a new light and not just the awkward pornstar fan he was, although that didn’t matter so much when all Arthur could think about was food. 

A few minutes of walking past two blocks of small shops and food stands, Alfred spotted McDonald’s and suggested it as a joke, but Arthur was hungry enough not to catch on. 

“Sure.” He said, not needing to think twice but watched his tone. Arthur didn’t want to seem so desperate for food. 

Alfred seemed taken aback, perhaps because Arthur didn’t seem like someone who adored fast food and well he really didn’t but that was not the time to be fucking picky.

Arthur had no idea that the very second he flashed that smile of his, a smile that said ‘ _finally I get to eat,’_ it translated to Alfred as ‘ _fuck he’s perfect’_ and the American had just taken the first real step to falling in love with Arthur and not Red Woods. But there was still a long way to that realization. A long, _long_ way. 

Alfred’s smile almost reached his ears and there was a new kind of shimmer in his sky blue eyes, which Arthur of course didn’t miss but failed to understand the reason behind. 

Inside, Arthur just ordered fries and iced tea while Alfred was more than satisfied with his greasy burgers. 

“That’s all you’re getting?” Alfred had asked him, genuinely surprised, and Arthur nodded his head. Truthfully, he was not a heavy eater and he did tell Alfred that, but the other still went to add chicken nuggets to Arthur’s meal and Arthur cannot find it in his heart to complain. ” 

They got their orders and sat down, and as time passed away slowly, Arthur got to know many things about Alfred Jones. 

* * *

Alfred finally found out what that K in Arthur’s name stood for. 

Kirkland. K was for Kirkland. It was Arthur’s last name, therefore Arthur’s full name was Arthur Kirkland. He repeated it again and again in his head, marveling at how elegant and respectful that named sounded compared to his. But don’t get him wrong. Alfred Jones, he mused, was a really awesome name. Beyond awesome even. But his name leaned more on a Hero sounding name, one that can be put on history books as a name of a great liberator, a mighty president idolized by many, while Arthur Kirkland sounded like that of a regal King’s name, passed on through legends and epics and mythologies. 

And Arthur looked like a damn gorgeous royalty himself. 

It was the first time Alfred saw someone eat fries with such poise. The way Arthur chewed with his mouth closed, the way his lips closed in around the red straw when he sipped from his cup, the way he wiped his ketchup-stained fingers on a tissue paper. 

For a brief moment Alfred pictured himself doing the job himself, licking those fingers clean with his own tongue and getting a taste of Arthur’s skin— the moment passed by quickly because he let it. Alfred couldn’t afford to risk another untimely boner.

“So um, your friend.” With a lack of ideas to talk about and a desperate need to distract himself from Arthur’s fingers, Alfred suddenly brought the topic up. He kind of regretted because he was not sure about what to say next. _Nice job, loser. Now what?_  

“Friend?” 

“Uh, yeah. You know, your friend. This dude that kicked you out the uh, staff room?” Alfred’s eyes darted around their mess on the table and on Arthur’s half-finished fries. “Or at least that’s what it looked like to me.” 

“Oh, you mean Lovino.” Arthur laughed, and that was a good thing. His green eyes also lit up and that was another good thing. Alfred felt a little confident now. “Yes, he did kick me out, but don’t get the wrong idea about him.” Alfred raised a brow and Arthur continued. “It’s not that he doesn’t like you. He simply doesn’t like everyone.”

“Tough.” Alfred commented mindlessly and Arthur nodded his head. 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah.”

He took a sip of his coke. His burger finished ages ago and now he was sharing a few fries with Arthur with said Brit’s insistence. 

“I have a weird friend too.” Alfred blurted out, feeling the clouds of awkwardness threatening to loom over them. Seeing Arthur’s face, he quickly added, “Not that I think your friend Lovi, um, Lovino is weird. Just—” 

“But Lovino is weird. Well, we all are weird in some way.” Arthur chuckled. Just like that, Alfred was back in the safe zone. “You were saying? Your weird friend?”

“Right. His name is Gilbert.” Alfred said without hesitating to drop the name. He looked at Arthur and decided that it would probably be a good story to tell. “The day you gave me my wallet, you know, in Starbucks, Gilbert was actually waiting for me inside a cab. And he was naked.”

“Naked?”

“Well, he got a tabloid to cover his parts. Does that count?”

 Again, he tried to study the look on Arthur’s face. Alfred was not the most perceptive person but he knew when someone was really interested in what he was saying, not that he always cared but this was Arthur. Apparently, he got the Brit’s attention at the naked part, or maybe more on the fact that while they were having a little chitchat at Starbucks, there was a naked man waiting in a cab for Alfred, with only a tabloid to preserve what was left of his pride and dignity.

 Alfred leaned forward and rested his elbows atop the table while Arthur bit on his straw across him, a habit that of course didn’t escape Alfred’s eyes and Gilbert’s story proved to be really necessary to be told as it posed a good distraction.

 He locked eyes with Arthur and told him about Gilbert’s adventures that faithful day his wallet was returned. He thought it was a good idea to tell, and it was. Arthur was entertained, laughing and asking if Alfred was serious, and he would say that unfortunately, yes he was.

At the end of the day, he learned a lot about Arthur, and he found himself wanting to learn more.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow an update 
> 
> aslkdjaslk 
> 
> we'll look at the lunch-definitely-a-date from Arthur's pov next chapter and of course more teasing from Lovino and more wailing from Gilbert... I guess. And maybe new character appearance?
> 
> anyway, thank youuuu


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘gee, Arthur, you’re a weak shit.’

Alfred Jones was... okay. 

He was a little loud and a little dorky. Not to mention, awkward and fidgety with beads of nervous sweat forming on his forehead, but looking past all that, Alfred was cool—can be really cool once he got over himself and stopped trying too hard please Arthur. In the right lighting, particularly the natural sunlight filtering past McDonald’s glass windows, with his bright smile and his glasses folded and hooked against the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, with his upper body turned halfway towards Arthur and his elbow resting on the table, his face resting on his palm, with his blue, blue eyes fixated solely on Arthur and occasionally drifting down to stare at the movement of the Englishman’s lips, attention completely caught in the webs of Arthur’s mere presence like the rest of world did not matter, in his natural charismatic element as conversation went on and on and on and on—

Alfred Jones was okay. 

Arthur pulled the covers up and over his head, blocking the dim light from his cute bunny lamp on the bedside table with hopes of blocking away also the memories of Alfred Jones’ fucking dazzling smile. It stayed in his mind persistently and proceeded to remind him of other particular events that happened in such a short amount of time. Like the way Alfred brushed away the fringe curtaining his eyes to the side, pushing his red spectacles up the bridge of his nose with a finger after. Arthur had been staring wordlessly at Alfred’s face, surprised at the gentleness and plain innocence of the American’s actions. Sweet innocent gestures that had started to make way for not so sweet and innocent thoughts in his brain. 

Arthur tossed and turned and eventually settled on his side with a pillow in between his legs. It took all of his effort— _all_ —not to grind against said pillow because that was a shameful and pathetic thing to do—

He was grinding on it anyway. The friction so delicious it almost ripped a moan past his lips, but he had his mouth clamped shut as if afraid that someone might hear him, catch him in the middle of his horny oblivion. Like the FBI agent monitoring him or his assigned guardian angel who was also probably shaking its head right now in disappointment, both saying ‘ _gee, Arthur, you’re a weak shit.’_

But did he really care anymore? Not really, not when his fingers had crawled and wrapped around his shaft in a brief moment of weakness, when a particularly vivid of memory of Alfred Jones rolling up his sleeves to reveal tanned forearms surfaced past the lustful haze of his thoughts. His hips jerked forward and Arthur embraced the fact that his hand alone was not going to make him cum. And it was an easy decision for him to reach under his bed, grabbing a box of sex toys he collected throughout his career.  

There were a lot, mostly gifts from his friends and fans, but of course he had a favorite. It was his own purchase, one he considered a golden find because of how utterly perfect it was. The length, the girth, the way it fucking feels inside him like it was real. 

Arthur smeared lube all over his fingers, clumsy and quick before he prodded at the rim of his eager asshole. A finger easily slid in, a second one following suite, scissoring and making his hips thrust back against it, only to chase the feeling of his own dickhead rubbing against his silk pajamas by jerking forward. The conflicting feelings of arousal had his eyelids shut and mouth agape. His hips rolling in a selfish and desperate attempt to enjoy every bit of pleasure his pair of hands can offer. 

And it still wasn’t fucking enough.  _Fuck._

His dildo glistened with an excessive amount of lube as he poured and almost emptied the bottle with frantic movements. Squelching sounds having duets with the hitches in his breaths as he slid it torturously slow inside him, relishing the burn and bliss as it rubbed against his walls.

“...f-fuck—shit.”

The fingers around his cock tightened, precome beading on his head. The dildo was just so perfectly big that it slid against Arthur’s insides with the barest movement of his lower body, making him hypersensitive to even his skin rubbing against his clothes and bed sheet. It would be freeing to relieve himself naked, but he was already so far gone, most especially when he turned on the vibrations of his dildo, shaking him to the core.

Arthur’s back arched, one hand pumping his flushed cock as the other continued to slide the dildo in and out his ass. God, oh  _god_ it felt so fucking  _good_  and Arthur’s hips thrust forwards and back. His toes curled and his legs trembled and he really was just so pathetically needy. If only Alfred could just see him right at that very moment, touch and him drill into him— _hard, harder—_  that very second, Arthur would gladly embrace death while impaled by Alfred’s cock.

 His hand pushed the dildo all the way inside him before abandoning it in favor of his nipple, fingers twisting and pinching on a perky nub, tugging on it harshly like what Alfred would probably have done with his teeth. Alfred’s perfect teeth. Arthur had almost been blinded by them every time he flashed a cheeky,  toothed grin, and now he was just beginning to think how those lips and those teeth, and that goddamn tongue could be put to better use. 

Alfred’s mouth would be better of sucking his nipples and leaving hickeys on his throat. Alfred’s hands were better off touching and grabbing and  _slapping_ Arthur’s ass cheeks until they were bloody red, fingers fisting on his hair and tugging on the strands until he could feel the sting only to be distracted by the violent pounding of Alfred’s fat dickhead against his prostate, balls slapping against him with every thrust. ‘ _Cum for me, baby’,_  he’d tell Arthur while completely depriving his cock with the much needed touch, ‘ _you can do it. You can cum with just my cock, can’t you, Artie?_ ’ Because Alfred was sweet and encouraging like that despite landing another hard slap on his ass, and Arthur, pathetic slut that he was, would nod his head eagerly in response because it was all he can do besides tug at his restraints and moan and gasp— _haaah—nggh haah_ —as Alfred’s fingers pulls on his hair and—

Arthur’s legs closed, folded against his chest, and he came, warm cum spurting and dampening his sheets. 

* * *

“What the hell happened to you? You look like...”

Lovino looked genuinely worried as he vaguely gestured at Arthur’s face.  And Arthur almost caught himself confessing ‘ _I look like I just jerked off to Jones? Really? Well yeah I kind of sort of did.’_ Instead, he stared back at Lovino with dead eyes, a stale cup of coffee in his hands, and he shrugged because what else could he say?

“Okay, did something happen? Like, bad?”

Was it bad that he jerked off to the image of Alfred Jones pulling his hair and being all bossy in bed?

He continued to stare at Lovino with his dead eyes and stale cup of coffee and shrugged. 

“Have you forgotten how to speak?” Lovino asked as he settled on the chair across Arthur while briefly checking the time on the wall clock. 

“Maybe,” Arthur mumbled before sipping on his cup, ignoring how tasteless his coffee had become. Ignoring the fact that he was actually drinking coffee, a drink he hated so much.

Well he also hated the fact that he stained his bedsheets after imagining Jones barking out an order in his ear, ‘ _cum for me baby.._ ’

“Jesus Christ!” Arthur pressed his palms on his eyes in an attempt to rid of the image in his head. He did not need another Alfred-induced boner-again- especially with his friend around.

“Oh look who suddenly had a religion.” Lovino snorted.   Losing his usual creativity with insults, Arthur could only repeat Lovino’s words in a chipmunk voice while making faces. Least to say, the Italian was not impressed. “Now look who’s acting like a fucking baby.”

“I wish I was a baby.” He replied, muttering under his breath. ‘I wish I was Jones’ baby.’ his mind not-so-helpfully supplied. ‘ _No! You take that back you_ —‘

The sudden knock on the door almost gave him a heart attack. 

“I’m opening.” Katyusha said with a smile that neither Arthur nor Lovino could reciprocate. It was seven in the morning. “Are you guys ready?”

“Do we have a choice?” Lovino grumbled and Katyusha quirked a brow when she answered, “You do.”

“For the last time, I don’t own this place.”

“Your twin brother does.” Arthur pointed out as he stood up to stretch, silently thankful for the opportunity of distracting himself with work. He hoped it would be a busy morning with a flock of sleep deprived people bursting through their doors, probably from chasing deadlines or chasing orgasms like he did last night. 

“Alright! To work!” Arthur exclaimed, cutting off Lovino’s usual defense of not co-owning the place because _‘it’s Feli’s, you idiots. I simple manage it in his place while his sorry unresponsible ass goes about frolicking in nonno’s fucking vineyard.’_ In the very least, his enthusiasm was very much appreciated by Katyusha as she flashed him a smile and a salute before rushing towards the door to change the sign from ‘close’ to ‘open.’ 

The gods must love Arthur because five minutes after opening, the crowd he wished for came flowing in in waves. And he would really rather deal with mean old women than the shame pooling in his stomach, the shame that was born from the lack of regret he should really be fucking feeling. 

Perhaps it was a matter of pride, because it all started out with Alfred salivating for him and then it all flipped so easily. Arthur really shouldn’t have given Alfred the chance to redeem himself and make him realize how hot he actually was, shouldn’t have stared at his twinkling blue eyes for more than one second, shouldn’t have allowed himself to be charmed by the laughter that escaped those perfectly sculpted lips. 

“Arthur!”

“What?” He answered snappishly, pausing from unloading the empty cups on the sink for Heracles to clean. Lovino had his body peeking halfway in from the door.

“Someone’s looking for you.”

The first thing that came to mind of course, was Alfred, except Lovino had a pretty harmless, expression on his face with that stupid teasing grin nowhere to be found. The Italian wasn’t wiggling his eyebrows as well.

“Who?”

“He didn’t say, just that he’s a friend of yours.” Lovino narrowed his eyes and looked back outside at Arthur’s surprise visitor. “But if you wanna know what I think, he looks like another fucking pervert. He kept touching his beard and kept flipping his hair—oh he did it again.”

No.

Arthur dropped everything and rushed out the door, heart hammering against his chest as he poked his head past the threshold.

“Hide me. Tell him I’m dead.” He said, slinking back and deciding to wash all the dishes himself. “Send Heracles out instead.”

“I’m not sending out a half dead person who delivers orders on the wrong table.” Lovino deadpanned and eyed said half dead man who was busy looking at cat pictures on his phone at the corner of the room. “He didn’t even hear what I said.”

“Tell him I’m…” Arthur looked up ceiling, searching for an excuse but coming up with none. “Tell him I’m dead.”

“I can’t possibly tell him you’re dead, idiot—ah!”

“Well look who’s alive and well! Arthur, _mom ami!”_

Lovino was pushed all the way inside the kitchen, a body forcing itself past the door. Thick, blond hair slapped his face and he heard Arthur yell “Francis!” at the same time he began to shoot questions  in surprise. “What the fuck are you doing? This is the staff room and it’s off limits and who in the name of fuck are you?”

“Ah, the name is Francis Bonnefoy, at your service.” The man answered, bowing  slightly and reaching for Lovino’s hand so he may place a tender kiss on his knuckles.

Except Lovino had pulled and leaped away in horror.

“Oi! The fuck?” He turned his head to look at Arthur, asking for an explanation ‘ _what is this horny creature in front of me’_ and asking for help.  The Englishman looked so murderously annoyed as he marched toward Francis and grabbed his arm.

“Frog,” His voice was low and he was gritting his teeth, certainly to prevent himself from starting a screaming fiasco. “Outside. Now.”

“So bossy. You’re so hot when you’re like this.” Francis? Frog? Whatever he was, Lovino was done hearing his shit. “I am so turned on right—“

“Outside! Now!” Lovino shouted with his hands covering his ears and then Arthur was frantically pushing Francis out the door and then out the coffee shop while bravely ignoring the curious stares of their customers. 

* * *

 

Arthur hadn’t been replying to his texts since last night and yes, Alfred felt pretty bummed about it. Not to sound like a needy boyfriend, he was not even Arthur’s boyfriend to begin with, but he did, really really did enjoy conversations with the Englishman and the evening felt boring without sarcasm blasting on his phone screen.

He watched porn of Red Woods and he came blissfully, but a silent phone did nothing to improve his mood. Alfred went to sleep thinking Arthur may have just fallen asleep earlier than usual. Must’ve been a pretty busy day. He really should’ve gave in and just went to visit the shop, dignity and pride be damned. Another caffeine boost was always welcome anyway.

But it was already morning and then it was already past lunch and all he got were twitter notifications from Liz, game invites from Kiku, and a missed phone call from his mom. Arthur hadn’t replied like usual, when his ‘gd mornin :D’ will be answered with “good morning, Alfred” and it was all it would take to brighten up his day.

Whhhyyy was Arthur not texting back?

Alfred tapped his pen against his lips, in deep thought. Maybe Arthur lost his phone and thus also losing Alfred’s number. Worse, Arthur got robbed inside his house and was bleeding tk death on the floor after being hit by a crowbar on the head. Or maybe Arthur was sick! A flu or colds or stomach cramps?

Or maybe Alfred oughta go and find out the real reason why Arthur was not texting back  instead of going crazy about the mutifuckingple scenarios in his head.

“Where are you going?” Toris asked when Alfred passed him by on his way out.

“Coffee.” He answered simply.

“But you just had one.”

“I don’t see your point. Bye!”

And then he was out and walking, feet taking familiar steps towards that familiar place to see a familiar face (daamn that rhymed). He could’ve just taken a bus. The traffic was okay in the afternoon. But Alfred had to walk and use and shake away the nervous energy inside him so that at least, when he finally met Arthur again— _again, can you believe it?—_ he’d be cool and composed and he wouldn’t break his good record of being a proper and functional human being after all that embarrassing shit he went through prior their lunch date.

‘ _Lunch date!’_ Alfred repeated in his head and grinned.

Imagine his delight when, from a few shops away, he saw Arthur’s beautifully angry face dashing out from the café with a not so beautiful face in tow. His face was red, his adorable eyebrows were furrowed, and the moment they neared the road Arthur crossed his arms and began lecturing the man he had pulled outside.

The first thing that came to Alfred’s mind was ‘ _wow, Arthur’s hot when he’s angry.’_ He could very well imagine the blond towering over him on bed with his arms crossed, and maybe instead of an apron, Arthur donned latex and leather.

The second thing that came to mind was that Arthur was probably dealing with a mean-assed customer and that just won’t do. Alfred disliked rude people, moreso people who were rude to Arthur.

He’d put that shit face in his place and rescue Arthur and if he was lucky, make Arthur swoon for him because damn, he too was hot af when he was angry.

A man with a purpose he was, and so forth he marched, hearing bits of their argument as he neared. He opened his mouth to say, ‘ _hey, stop bothering him’_ in the manliest manliest voice he could, but the words got stuck in his throat.

The words got stuck in his throat and his breath got stuck in his throat and his saliva got stuck in his throat because Arthur whisper-shouted, “I am _not_ going _back_ to do porn _again_ , Francis!” and Alfred squeaked “Woohaaaat?”

Arthur’s head snapped towards Alfred, green eyes wide with shock but dude Alfred was shocker, more shocked, shockedest and he was processing this because hey maybe he misheard but he hoped he did not good _lord_ and woah okay okay okay okayokayokayokay—

“You do _porn?”_ He breathed and Arthur, god help him, covered his face and hissed “ _shit_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm back?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time to write a smut story so feel free to point out mistakes and make suggestions. Thanks for reading!


End file.
